


Polaris

by DuchessKenobi



Series: Ashla Spectrum [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Tales of the Jedi, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Onderon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 74
Words: 252,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuchessKenobi/pseuds/DuchessKenobi
Summary: Co-authored by Lux's Sister. The Northern Seas are a wasteland, the Beast Riders say, where only those rejected by all else would dare go. Seventeen years apart, a woman searching for a second chance at life and an unwilling bride-to-be must find strength and direction to escape a living death.Polaris is a spinoff from the Ashla Spectrum trilogy but this story has two authors. It is the fruit of our combined effort and imaginations, and there is no way either of us could have pulled it off by ourselves. Onderon's Northern Sea and the Blackwells of Blackhold were the original idea of Lux's Sister and I am so grateful that she allowed my Shara to seek refuge there in her time of need.All chapters set in the generation before the Clone wars were written by Me.All chapters set during the Clone Wars are written by Lux's Sister who's other wonderful works can be found on fanfiction.net





	1. Polaris

**POLARIS**

**by LS**

 

Thousands of years ago, when the Naddists still held the world and black magic crackled out of the royal palace, those who were tossed out of the walled city hid in the jungle with bated breath.

 

The jungle was still a savage place in those days. The dalgos and fambaas raged through the prairie stomping everything in their wake and feasting on the flesh of the poor exiles. Therupings swung down from the sky to steal their food. Those were the days of drexls, the winged beasts who flew from Dxun to wreak havoc on our people. When the exiles saw those demon beasts, they ducked to hide under whatever they could find so they wouldn’t be plucked from the ground and eaten alive. 

 

But this isn’t some Core world where the exiles cowered forever. This is Onderon. The exiles hadn’t been in the jungle long before they dusted themselves off, looked at the world they lived in now, and made up their minds that they would not give the Naddists the victory of sending them to their deaths. Slowly but surely they tamed the beasts; first keeping them away from their villages, to slaughtering some for meat, and finally one brave soul climbed on the back of a ruping and changed the world. His family name was Kira, and he was the first Beast Rider.   

 

Many of the exiles bent the knee for House Kira and learned to tame the beasts from them. But some didn’t have the touch. The beasts reared when they reached a hand out to them. They threw the would-be riders from their backs. The other families, the Beast Riders sworn to House Kira, gave them pitying looks and in their minds relegated them to society’s low places. In a different situation, they may have pledged themselves to House Kira and a life of mediocrity. But these men and women, especially the most vocal member of their group, Aloysius Blackwell, had pride pricklier than thorns. And eventually Aloysius convinced the others to follow him where man nor beast had gone before: the Northern Seas. 

 

The Seas stand near Onderon’s north pole, masses of barely-melted ice which feed the rivers that reach south to Iziz and the jungles. Blackwell and his followers reached them in the autumn and knew they had to complete their journey before the North’s harsh winter set in. So they chopped down the trees, bent planks, and built themselves ships to set out for their own place. 

 

Some, like the Flints, settled on the shoreline or along coves. Some, like the Harkons, settled atop rocky crags which howl on windy days.  The Blackwells built their home on a stone island in the middle of the sea. Their castle, Blackhold, still stands, refusing to bow to the waves, invaders, or anyone who would dare threaten its members. 

 

The Great Houses still stand to this day. Dendup sitting the throne in the Royal Palace. Bonteri in Iziz, with the new contender Rash reaching for the crown. Kira in the jungles, taming the wilderness on beastback. Blackwell in the north, conquering the deep. 

 

…

 

The banner’s ripped again. With a sigh, Dalla Blackwell brushes her stringy hair behind her ears and removes it from its mount, careful not to wrinkle it. Heraldry isn’t something to disrespect; especially her own family’s arms. She’s honestly surprised she or someone else hadn’t noticed the banner’s sorry state before. 

 

It doesn’t matter now. She folds the banner in half to make it easier to carry and heads for her bedroom and her sewing kit. She threw it haphazardly on her bed a few hours ago when she put  _ Maiden’s Heel  _ into harbor that morning, knowing she had to alter her leathers again. She’d thought she was done growing at seventeen, but that apparently isn’t the case.

 

_ Thank goodness for seam allowance,  _ she thinks and shifts her shoulders in the softening leathers. She hasn’t had time to take them off yet, between finally arriving home after the last voyage and seeing the ripped banner. Well, the thing about seam allowance is that it doesn’t let itself out unless Dalla grabs a pair of scissors. She makes it halfway back to her room before a pair of arms cinches around her waist and lifts her off her feet. 

 

“Chirn bait!” a cheerful voice laughs and pretends to throw her into imagined water. 

 

She had a feeling it was him and she laughs back. If there’s one thing about living at the Hold, it’s that privacy is a daydream. “Uncle Jamos, you’re the worst.” 

 

“There are worse than me,” Jamos teases and pretends to toss her again. “Kason, are you getting this?” 

 

Dalla cranes her neck. “Kason, you’d better as haran not be filming.” 

 

Her twelve-year-old cousin gives Jamos the thumbs-up. “All of it.” 

 

Dalla shrugs out of her uncle’s grip and lands on both feet. “Ever thought of sleeping with one eye open, Kason?” 

 

“What can you do to me that Double Trouble can’t?” Kason asks, shoving a honey-colored lock out of his eyes. “Anyway, I’m leaving on a trip with some friends tonight. You can’t touch me.” 

 

“It’s like we can’t keep both of you in the same house,” Jamos’ usual smile falters. His brother  warned him that children grow up fast, but he didn’t think it would happen  _ this  _ fast. It wasn’t that long ago he could toss Dalla around effortlessly and Kason was still burbling in his crib. Dalla’s got to admit too, that she still does a double take every time she sees her younger brothers or cousins managing on their own. 

 

It still doesn’t make their antics any less annoying. 

 

An idea comes to her. “You’re taking your boat? Then you need a banner.” She carefully lobs the folded banner at him. “Lucky for you, I have one.”  

 

Kason catches it and inspects the blue fabric. “Hey, this one’s --.” 

 

“I would have patched it up for you, but I have ledgers to balance. I mean, unless you want to do those too,” she says over her shoulder and continues toward her room. 

 

Uncle Jamos roars with laughter while Kason squawks “Dalla, did you just give me your  _ chores?”  _

 

Yup. She’s still adjusting her own leathers, but at least the banner’s out of the way. “Happy mending, Kason!” 

 

If he really doesn’t want to do it he’ll pass the task off to one of his brothers or to Thias and Cade. She couldn’t care less as long as it isn’t her. 

 

She locks her bedroom door behind her just in case Kason gets the idea to chuck the banner in and settles down at her desk with the ledger in some clothes that actually fit.  _ Maiden’s Heel  _ didn’t have a bad run this time around. It’s nothing like Uncle Jamos’ or her father’s, what with Aunt Shara’s incredible beastmastering, but their nets were full and the crew was in good spirits when they landed, ready to go back to their homes or hit the pubs harder than Dalla wished to unless Miranda was around.

 

There’s a knock at her door. 

 

“What is it?” She shouts. 

 

“Dalla!” her youngest brother Cade yells through the door. “Father needs to see you in his office now. He says it’s an emergency!”  

 

Dalla drops her stylus. “He said  _ what?”  _

 

“It’s an emergency!” Cade repeats. 

 

“What kind of emergency?” she prompts and swipes her datapad off her desk. “Is something on fire? Was there a storm? Is it the Bralykburns again?” 

 

“He didn’t tell me.” Cade rattles the handle in an attempt to open her locked door. “He just said it was an emergency and to get you now.” 

 

Dalla disengages the lock. “Thanks Cade. I’ll be there right away.” 

 

When Marlon Blackwell calls you to his office, you do not walk to get there. You do not run to get there. You go as fast as humanly possible to get there. Dalla only stops long enough to knock on the door before she enters. “Father, you wanted to see me?” 

 

Her father gestures to one of the chairs across from his desk, looking older than his almost-forty years. “Have a seat, Dalla.” 

 

“Cade said there was an emergency.” 

 

“There is,” Marlon folds his hands. “You understand what being the heir to Blackhold means, correct?”

 

She nods “When you -- when you can’t perform your duties anymore, then I become the Lady of the north and the head of House Blackwell.” 

 

“You remember our house words?”

 

_ “We are the deep,”  _ she parrots. She’s known that and the reasoning behind it since she was able to talk. “We are the deep, and no one can own the ocean. So no one owns us. Why do you ask?”

 

“And you know I love you very much?” 

 

That doesn’t sound like her father at all. Dalla’s internal alarms go off. “Father, where are you going with this?” 

 

Marlon pushes a holodisk into the center of the desk with his fingertips like it’s dripping with slime. 

 

“I received a hologram from Iziz a few minutes ago. You need to see it,” he says and presses a button to play back the message. 

 

A man around her father’s age materializes in the hologram’s shadeless blue, from his beard to his clothing to the laurel crown around his head.

 

_ “This is His Highness King Sanjay of the House Rash, the rightful ruler of Onderon, contacting Lord Marlon of the House Blackwell. _ ”

 

Dalla blinks. “You got a message from the king?” 

 

Marlon snorts. “One of the kings.”

 

_ “Lord Marlon, I understand there has been animosity between the people of the North and of Iziz, and in such turbulent times the people of Onderon cannot afford to be divided.” _

 

“Father, does he want us to declare for the crown? Or be one of his bannermen?” she can see that bordering on emergency territory. House Blackwell tends to keep out of southern politics; most kings tend to assume the north stands with them unless the Blackwells say otherwise. 

 

“No,” Marlon glares at the hologram. “He wants something else. Watch.”

 

The hologram keeps playing and Dalla turns her attention back to it. 

 

_ “It is high time our families were united,”  _ Rash declares.  _  “And to that end, I will wed your Dalla.” _

 

Dalla jerks back so hard she knocks her chair over and Marlon dashes around the desk to assist her. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

She nods and accepts her father’s extended hand, staring at the hologram. How in the salt gods’ names is this happening? It's only been a few days since her seventeenth birthday, and Sanjay Rash is only a year younger than her father!

 

_ “-- the North,”  _ Rash continues.  _ “I see only good arising from such a match. I'm sure Lady Dalla will be a lovely addition to House Rash.”  _

 

“Father, please,” Dalla begs. “Please don't make me do it. If you want a husband for me, then I’ll find someone. Someone northern; we could make a new alliance or reward a bannerman or something. One of the Kretash boys, maybe? Lux Bonteri? The Bralykburns? I'll find someone, I swear it. Just anyone but him!” 

 

Marlon’s jaw hardens. “You think I considered it for an instant after what he did to your aunt?” 

 

It takes a minute for that to sink in. “You didn't agree?” 

 

“Sanjay Rash did awful things to your aunt when he got it in his head he wanted an heir. No matter what he says, I know he’d do those things to you. And I don’t think he even knows what you look like.”

 

She reads between the lines on that one and instinctively touches her crooked nose. It had been broken in an accident when she was thirteen and it, as well as some of her front teeth, healed crookedly. Sanjay Rash must have tried to flatter her father.

 

“I love my children,” Marlon growls. “I'm not about to sell them for a crown.”

 

Dalla hugs her father and holds onto him like a barnacle, trying not to weep with joy. “Thank you. Thank you!” 

 

“He did not take it well,” Marlon pulls her back so he can look her in the eyes. “I'm not playing the rest of the recording because I might be tempted to smash my holoprojector, but there was a fair amount of shouting. He claims he’s the king, and thus has the ultimate authority. He will try to force us into this arrangement.”

 

Dalla imagines waking up next to Sanjay Rash in the Royal palace. She imagines her husband chaining her to the south never to set foot on the sea again. She imagines holding the baby he would force her to have -- the baby he could never give her if the rumors are true -- in her arms. She imagines the hell he would put her through for that phantom baby. 

 

“If he tries anything, I'm going to cut off his nose,” She swears even though she feels her bravado slipping to an all-time low. 

 

“It's my job to make sure he doesn't get within arms’ reach,” Marlon agrees. “But in case he does, that sounds like a good plan. Pull yourself together.” 

 

She does, though the fix is temporary at best. 

 

“You are a lady of House Blackwell,” Marlon reminds her. “No one owns us. You must remind them of it, or they’ll think they can.” 

 

“I'll remind them,” she swears and bows her head. “May I take the holodisk with me?”

 

“Don't see why not,” Marlon shrugs. “Why do you want it?”

 

“I don't know,” she says and it's the truth. When she thinks about that recording her emotions range from nausea to primal rage. 

 

Her bravado cracks. The second she leaves the office, panic takes Dalla and she bolts off for her aunt and uncle’s chambers. 

 

...

 

The door to Shara and Jamos’ wing blows open and in the first instant Shara goes to chastise her husband about locking it. Jamos doesn’t always remember (you can’t very well lock a sailing ship) but for Shara it’s almost a religion. 

 

But in the second it takes to turn her head, Shara realizes she heard the lock disengage. She looks over into the family room -- all her children are accounted for except Kason, who’s out on the open sea with his friends recording Brylk calves. He shouldn’t be home for weeks. But in that case, who else has their door code (“Sophia”) but their family, Marlon, and his children? 

 

The door shuts and Dalla Blackwell rounds the corner into the kitchen, her eyes twin moons. 

 

“Aunt Shara,” Dalla chokes out. Her breathing is all gulps and puffs, like she’s drowning or trying to blow out a trick life day candle. 

 

“Dalla?” Shara shakes her hands out over the sink and turns around, the dishes forgotten. “Dalla, what’s wrong? Is your father all right?” 

Dalla nods and Shara catches a glimpse of a Holodisk clutched in her hands. Jamos snatches it.

 

“Shara, will you try to calm her down?” he asks. “I’m going to see if we can get any answers from this.” 

 

Shara’s a step ahead of him. She yanks out a chair at their table and plops Dalla into it before seating herself in the other. 

 

“Breathe,” she orders, wondering if she should put on tea or something. “Take a deep breath, and tell me what it is.”

 

Shara gets a name out of her niece the same moment Jamos starts swearing a blue streak from the other room. 

 

…

 

Oh. He got...older. 

 

It's a ridiculous thought. Shara got older; of course Sanjay did too. But to see Sanjay Rash’s older face twisted into a pompous grin and saying such things is another matter altogether. 

 

_ “This is His Highness King Sanjay of the House Rash, the rightful ruler of Onderon, contacting Lord Marlon of the House Blackwell. Lord Marlon, I understand there has been animosity between the people of the North and of Iziz, and in such turbulent times, the people of Onderon cannot afford to be divided.” _

 

“Such poodoo,” Jamos spits.

 

Sanjay’s hologram continues.  _ “It is high time our families were united. And to that end, I will wed your Dalla and make her a queen. Such a beautiful young lady should be seen, not hidden away in the --.” _

 

Dalla slams off the projector before her aunt and uncle can. 

 

“Is he serious?” Jamos seethes. “He’s old enough to be her frakking father!” 

 

“He doesn't have an heir,” Shara says hollowly “He's always wanted an heir. And she's a healthy, strong girl. Dalla, your father couldn't have consented to this!”

 

“He didn't,” Dalla confirms. “Rash was a highborn snob when you left him, Aunt Shara, but now he’s king of the entire planet. What if he tries something? What if he sends royal agents to bring me or Thias or Cade to Iziz? What if he sends the  _ Separatists?”  _  Shara questions whether or not to make Dalla breathe through a flimsi bag. “We can’t hold off the Separatists!”

 

“You don't have to worry about him. Because I'm going to kill him.” Jamos says after a string of hardly repeatable four-letter words and jumps to his feet, grabbing his sharpened fishing knife. “He made my wife's life a living hell for two years and now he wants my niece? Shara, tell the kids I went on a fishing trip. I wanted to gut him with a harpoon when I first heard about him and I’m going to do it now. Sanjay Rash is dead.” 

 

“Jamos!” Shara cries and scrambles to her feet to block him from reaching the door. 

 

“Uncle Jamos, if you go you'll just give him a hostage. Then what are we going to do?” Dalla argues. 

 

“What's your father doing about this?” Jamos spits. “We can't let him spit on our house’s name like this! He thinks we would prostitute you for a crown?” 

 

“I watched the rest of the holo. Father told him where he could stick that proposal. It’s a kriffing understatement to tell you he didn’t take it well,” Dalla snorts. “Uncle Jamos, I think he’s been trying to call you but you won’t answer your comm.” 

 

Jamos fishes his comm out of his pocket, looks at it, and storms into the other room with Marlon no doubt already hanging on the other line. 

 

“You’re going to be fine,” Shara swears. “I promise, Dalla, he won't touch you or the north. He’s not going to win this one.”

 

Dalla unsheathes a knife from her belt and holds up the blade. “I already told Father if it gets out of hand and Rash tries anything, I'm going to cut off his nose.” Well, at least she’s starting to sound like herself. 

 

“No,” Shara says. “If he touches you, I'm going to fight him.” 

 

Umpteen years ago, Lana Blackwell said those words for Shara while they were in Iziz for her divorce. When the Rashes crossed the line, Lana shouted after Sanjay and his mother “You won’t come anywhere near her! If you do I will fight you here or in the north! I will fight you on the very steps of the palace with Dendup as the referee.” Because she was a Blackwell. And they protect their family.

 

Shara’s a Blackwell like Lana was, and she isn’t one to leave a debt unpaid. She’ll keep an eye on her ex-husband; if he so much dips a toe in the Northern Sea Shara will be there. And salt gods forbid he lays a finger on Steela Gerrera, because even though she hasn’t seen the girl since she was a baby, she’s of an age with Dalla. Shara will come out of the woodwork to protect Geb and Edda’s little girl. 

 

And Sanjay had already threatened her family. Like any other northern woman, Shara reminds herself she could always borrow Jamos’ harpoon gun. 


	2. Shara's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seventeen years before Dalla received her unwanted proposal another young woman was fleeing from a similar situation. Shara began as a random name for a fruit merchant’s daughter in chapter 16 of the Ashla Awareness. She has grown so much since Lux's Sister allowed me to send her north to seek refuge with the Blackwell clan.   
> This chapter sits right on the heels of the Ashla Awareness epilogue.   
> Thanks for reading!   
> Duchess Kenobi

**SHARA**

The little boat was more of a coracle than a proper row boat, but it had served her purpose. It was a gift from Geb Gerrera. He’d used it for fishing on the river. It was never meant to go on the waters of the Northern Sea. She hadn't really meant to go that far. And yet still she had managed to pilot it all the way up the river to its mouth and to the very dock of Blackhold.

 

Maybe it was that and the determined angle at which she held her head that had first caught the eye of the young captain. Someone asked her if she needed help to tie up the craft but Shara refused them. “I can do it myself, thanks.” It wasn't a sailor's knot that she used but she'd never known a dalgos to break free from that hitch.

 

She pulled the bag that contained all of her earthly possessions up onto the dock. It wasn't heavy. She wouldn't dare take anything with her that belonged to the Rash family. She'd already stolen herself away. Gods forbid they blame her of stealing anything else.

 

She stood there and surveyed her surroundings. Surely they wouldn't come after her here, if they even knew where she had gone. She didn't hold any hope that they actually missed her presence more than one might seek out a runaway mare of good breeding stock. It seemed that that was all she was to them anyway. They’d appreciate her more when she returned, surely. There was even the possibility that she'd be able to show them just how productive she could be. Another week and she’d know for sure.

 

Shara had to get away, just for a little while. At first she had just planned on going home to her father but his reception had left a lot to be desired. “What, your Highness? You had enough of livin’ in the palace? Felt like comin’ down and slummin’ with the common folk?” He didn't seem all that upset when they'd delivered his brand new repulsor-truck.

 

But, no. That wasn't fair. She knew he didn't really mean it. He missed her. Even though he swore he'd always wanted a son. She was a reminder of her mother.

 

Mother had died in the same sickness that took Bremon's parents. Father had worried that it might take Shara too. But Shara was made of stronger stuff. She was his daughter. He taught her to ride and he taught her his trade.

 

She asked him once why he'd never found a new wife to get a son. He'd waved her off and said he was too busy with her to even think of such things.

 

She knew that she had hurt him when she left to marry Sanjay. Maybe she was hurting him more by coming all the way up here.

 

Now that she was here she was going to have to use what he had taught her to survive. She'd need a place to stay and a way to earn her keep.

 

She noticed several tables set up on the boardwalk. Above them flew the flags that represented each house or clan that had a ship in the harbor. More interesting to Shara were the notice boards which listed the positions that needed to be filled for the next voyage. There were listings for sail makers and cabin boys and able-bodied seamen. There was a listing for a galley cook that Shara supposed she might be qualified for, but what she really wanted was to work with animals. It was a feeble hope. What possible need would there be for someone on a ship who had a way with non-sentient creatures like she did?

 

Then she saw it, next to a blue flag, a listing for 'Beast Master’. She hurried over and joined the line for that table and hoped that none of the men in front of her were vying for the same position. As each one spoke to the gentleman behind the table and signed their name on the roster, Shara glanced up at the altered notice board.

 

She was still looking up at it when the last man stepped out of the way leaving her at the front of the line.

 

“May I help you?” Came the amused voice of the young man who now sat behind the table. He was not the same one who had been sitting there a moment before.

 

She looked around for the other, confused at the sudden change.

 

“My first mate was covering for me.” The young man explained. “But I assure you, as captain, that I am qualified to help you with whatever you might require.”

 

“You’re the - the captain?” Shara inquired.

 

He grinned. “You don't believe me?”

 

“Well, it’s just, you look very young to be…” Very young and very handsome, with his dark hair and meticulously groomed beard and mustache, she thought to herself. That was definitely not the reason she’d come north. She looked away but she could still feel him smiling at her.

 

“I've been sailing all my life. Actually I’m more comfortable on the sea than on the land. I'm Jamos by the way, Captain Jamos Blackwell.”

 

She looked up when she heard his family name. Of course he was a captain. His clan were the lords of the whole North. “I'm sorry… Sir.” She added.

 

He leaned back in his chair studying her. “Now, what brings you here?”

 

Shara glanced once more at the notice board to see her desired occupation still listed as unfilled. “I need a job.” She hesitated and then plunged on. “What does a Beast Master do… exactly?”

 

“Beast Master?” She'd shocked him. She would have almost laughed at his expression but she didn't want him to think this was a joke.

 

“Yes.” She answered him seriously. “I have experience working with animals. You may have grown up on a ship but I practically grew up on the back of a dalgos.”

 

They stared each other down for a moment until he said, “Alright.” He tapped on the screen of a data tablet. “Beast Master is an essential part of a fishing crew. It can a dangerous job if the Brylks are acting up or seas are rough.”

 

“Ever tried to corral a herd of fambass when they're spooked by a spring storm and start to stampede?” She asked with an arched eyebrow.

 

“No, I can't say that I have.” He smiled, turned the tablet towards her and activated a vid for her to watch. “This is what a Beast Master does.”

 

Shara studied the vid. Watching the big aquatic creatures come to the master’s call and then turn at his urging to drive the smaller fish towards the nets draped over the side of the ship. She meant to pay attention to the beast master and how he accomplished his goal but her eyes were drawn back to the creatures, Brylks, the captain had called them. They appeared so noble and grand.

 

She longed to be out there with them. She would have been at the Summer Fete right now if it hadn't been for… everything.  

 

She looked up from the tablet and found the captain studying her as closely as she had been regarding the vid.

 

“You think you could manage something like that?” He asked skeptically.

 

“I know, I could.” She answered defiantly.

 

He honestly seemed as if he wanted to believe her. “You'll have to excuse me, but I really need more to go on than just your word.”

 

She was desperate. She needed the work and she wanted the chance to work with those creatures. If this was to be the last time she ever got to have an adventure before she had to settle down and be the Rash family's incubator, she was going to make the most of it.

 

Shara nodded and then tapped on the tablet and turned it towards him. With a satisfied expression, she activated a vid of her own. She’d only just remembered that it had been uploaded to the net after her exhibition at last year’s Summer Fete. “That's me.” She pointed to the girl in the vid racing around the track, standing on the back of the dalgos, shooting blaster targets.

 

He watched, amazed. “Why aren't you doing this professionally?”

 

She smiled smugly and then sobered and gazed at the dalgos in the now still image. “Sophia just had her first foal. I couldn't… Will you allow me to have a go? I promise I won't disappoint you, Captain.”

 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, or so it seemed to Shara, he asked, “Can you sew?”

 

“Captain, just because I'm a girl…” she began a frustrated rant.

 

He stopped her. “I'm not saying that I want to take you on board as ship’s seamstress or that I think sewing is women's work. Each member of the crew is responsible for mending their own uniforms and hammocks and there are a few who are specifically assigned to working on the sails…” He was rambling and he seemed to realize it. “It's just that I don't think we've got any fishing leathers small enough for you. You’d have to alter some to fit.”

 

She brightened. “Really? You'd take a chance on me?”

 

“It seems so.” He smiled at her. “Can’t leave the dock until we have a Beast Master on board and you’re the best qualified candidate I’ve seen.”

 

“Oh thank you!” Impetuously, Shara leaned over the table and hugged him. Then realizing her mistake she stepped back hurriedly. “Sorry, Sir. er Captain.”

 

When she glanced at his face she could see that he was valiantly trying to keep from grinning. “It’s alright.” His fingers tapped at the tablet and then he looked up at the notice board and she followed his gaze. The message there now stated that all positions for the next voyage had been filled. “Oh but I guess I’d better have you officially sign on.” He turned the tablet toward her once again and handed her a stylus. “Just there…” he pointed.

 

She glanced up at him and then back down. “It’s… just for this particular voyage, correct?”

 

“Yes.” He gave her a nod. “Though if we find it agreeable working together…”

 

“And how long does the typical voyage last?”

 

“That will depend on the weather and the quality of the catch…”

 

“How long?” she asked again.

 

He smirked. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

 

She looked away from his joking expression. “Perhaps.”

 

“Three to four weeks.”

 

Shara nodded. She took the stylus and then paused. What name was she to use? Finally she decided that it was a legal contract and deserved her legal name. She formed the letters, ‘Shara Rash’ and pushed the tablet back towards him. She watched as he perused the signature to make sure that everything was in order but he didn’t react to her name. When he looked up at her again he just smiled. “Glad to have you aboard, Beast Master Rash.”

 

She smiled too, when she heard the title.

 

“And now it’s time to actually get aboard.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

 

“Pardon me, Sir. But which ship is it?” she asked.

 

“She’s the one…” He placed a hand on her shoulder and pointed out toward the docks.

 

Shara felt a little awkward at his touch but didn’t let on since she’d just had the gall to embrace him a few minutes before.

 

“There with the blue banner, The Polaris!” He announced to her proudly.

 

She saw the one he meant. It wasn’t the biggest ship in the harbor. There were others that were broader with higher top masts. But Captain Blackwell’s ship seemed to stand taller than any of the others.

 

“She’s beautiful. It will be an honor serving on her, Sir.” Shara said honestly.

 

He beamed. “Well, you can go on aboard whenever you’re ready. Get your gear stowed. I’ll make sure you get your leathers so they can be fit to your... “ She didn’t imagine his eyes traveling over her. “...figure.”

 

“Thank you, Captain.” She said a little more coolly, stepping beyond his reach. “Oh and… Captain.” She frowned. “You said something before about hammocks... How does that…”

 

He hurried to reassure her. “You don’t have to worry about that. You’ll have your own cabin, of course. Rank of... Beast Master, has it’s privileges.”

 

She wasn’t sure if that was normally the case but she allowed the worry to ease out of her a bit. She had a berth on the Polaris for three weeks and she had a job to do. After that she was sure she’d be able to tackle whatever was waiting for her back in Iziz.

  
  


**JAMOS**

Jamos walked the deck, surveying his domain. It was brilliant to be back at sea again with a full crew. He was happy with the new acquisitions, especially his new Beast Master. It was hard to believe that she had never been on the sea before coming North from Iziz. True she'd been a little green when she first stepped aboard but now everything seemed to be going swimmingly.

 

Just now, she stood by the rail looking out over the waves. He frowned. She seemed sad and distant and Jamos hoped that was only spray wetting her cheeks. He went to stand beside her and pretended not to notice the way she wiped her eyes with her sleeve upon his arrival.

 

“Captain.” She acknowledged with a sniff.

 

“You seem to be well over the seasickness.” He smiled at her.

 

“Yes, thank you, Captain.” She nodded. “It shouldn't get in the way of my duties.”

 

He glanced around and noticed they were alone but lowered his voice anyway. “I was more concerned with your well-being, Shara.”

 

She looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise and then turned her gaze again to the sea. “I'm fine now, Captain.”

 

“Please, when it's just us, call me Jamos.”

 

“I couldn't - I can't do that, Captain.” She moved a half step away from him, nervously.

 

He closed the distance again with a bit of a swagger and grinned, teasing her. “I could order you to.”

 

“No, I mean,” she moved away from him again. “The reason I left Iziz was to get away from my husband.” She glanced at him a second to see his reaction. And then rambled on. “He’s already accused me of… I didn't come here to prove him right.”

 

“He accused you of being unfaithful?” Jamos clenched his jaw. It was certainly a shock to learn she was married. He hated her husband just on principle but if the fracking sleemo had falsely accused her and driven her away… “He didn't hurt you, did he?”

 

“No! No, it was nothing like that.” She hurried to assure him. “It was… well… his sister.”

 

“His sister accused you of being unfaithful?” He asked, confused but trying to make sense of everything that she was finally opening up to tell him.

 

“No.” Shara sighed a little shakily. “She died. She was… well I mean it was partially because of her that Sanjay and I… would it make you think less of me to hear that part of the reason I married him was to have Melaana for a sister-in-law?”

 

It took him a second to realize that she was actually asking for his opinion. “Uh...no… family is important. If you marry into a family you don't get along with… could be like a one way trip to Dxun.” He made a movement with his hand over his heart like the old superstition to ward off evil.

 

Shara nodded. “I didn't get along well with the entire family but Melaana was different. She … she was everything good and light in the Galaxy.” She smiled sadly and though he was sure that was probably a bit of an exaggeration, Jamos was glad to see that smile. Whoever that girl was she must have been one of those rare beings who charmed everyone they met and were more often than not removed from the plane of the living much too soon.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, wishing there was more he could do for this woman who, if he wasn't careful, would capture his heart completely.

 

Shara nodded her thanks and then looked away again as she continued with her story. “She and her husband were married just the day before Sanjay and I. Maybe it was the signal we were waiting for to…” she looked over the rail down into the foam. “Take the plunge.”

 

Suddenly Jamos worried that she might be thinking of doing just that. He placed his hand over hers where it rested on the rail. She looked into his eyes for a moment, searching and then stepped away, but not towards the churning sea. And he breathed easier.

 

She paced across the deck towards the main mast and he matched her stride not feeling like she was trying to get away from him or that she was finished with the story for that matter. He waited for her to continue.

 

“Producing an heir was very important to my husband's family. I didn't mind that so much. We did try. I would have liked very much to… have a child.”

 

Jealousy welled up in Jamos at the very idea but he made a concentrated effort to swallow it back. She was speaking again and he didn't want to miss a word.

 

“It didn't take Melaana and Brem any time at all. Would have been happy for them even if it didn't take the pressure off a bit.”

 

“She died in childbirth, then?” He guessed. Saying the words gently, with respect.

 

“No,” she explained. “It was a crash. Mel was a great pilot. We may never know how or why, but she flew off in her freighter and never came back.”

 

Jamos knew there was more to that story but he didn't ask. It didn't pertain to Shara's own tale and that was what he was really interested in.

 

“Brem was devastated, as you can imagine. We worried that he might do himself harm. I went to see him when I could. Tried to do things around the house, keep him company, give him a shoulder to cry on…”

 

He thought he understood now but Jamos didn't dare interrupt.

 

“At first Sanjay was just upset that I was spending too much time there. And then… well someone brought up the fact that with Melaana and her child gone producing an heir now fell to us. I don't know what the change was. There was talk of a curse put on the family?” She said with a rye, humorless smile. “Suddenly it was my fault and my visits to see my friend were misconstrued as an effort to… produce a…”

 

The captain raised his hand to place it on her shoulder, but drew it back before he made contact knowing that she would just throw him off. “He accused you of being unfaithful with his sister's husband.” He said softly.

 

Shara nodded, tears making her eyes grow brighter. “I told him it wasn't true. That I … that…” She turned away to the ship's rail.

 

She was silent for quite a while and Jamos warred with himself whether to reach out to her. Everything in him wanted to take this woman in his arms and promise her that she never had to worry about anything ever again.

 

Then she spoke so softly that he had to strain to hear the words. “I thought maybe when I came on board… when I was so sick… that maybe it had finally happened.”

 

The realization of those words washed over him like a cold wave. She had thought she might be pregnant. “You would have gone back to him if…” It surprised him how much it pained him to say the words.

 

She turned to look at him as if just remembering that he was there. “Of course.” She was loyal that was for sure.

 

“And now?” He asked.

 

Her sorrow was as deep as the North Sea, itself. But then she straightened up. “I've … signed on to this crew, Captain.”

 

That was right. Her loyalty was to this ship and to him now, or at least until the voyage ended. Jamos took a certain amount of satisfaction from that fact. But he didn't show it and he wasn't going to take it for granted either. 

 

“Shara,” again he longed to reach out to her. “This crew is like a family. If you need anything, if you need any help with arrangements back in Iziz…”  _ if you need me to gut your no good husband with a harpoon _ , he did not add aloud. “You have only to ask.”

 

She nodded and though he knew the conversation had reached its conclusion, he had to force himself to turn away from her and continue his tour of the deck.

 

Before he was away he heard her quietly say, “Thank you… Jamos.”

  
From her lips it sounded like music. His heart leaped but he would take things slowly. The captain knew how to weather a storm. He could row out of a calm. Jamos Blackwell was a patient man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since we’re co-authoring Lux's Sister can’t always see your lovely comments here and ff.net doesn't allow an option for co-authoring.  
> so feel free to stop by and chat with both LS and me in our forum!  
> we will also be posting extra info there about the clans and culture and creatures of the north.  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/forum/Polaris-tales-of-the-Blackwells-and-the-Onderonian-Northern-Sea/202176/


	3. An Officer and A Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L.S. says: "This chapter is dedicated to my teacher and the insane things he did in the name of helping his students"

In the north, everything larger than a rowboat flies its family’s colors. The light blue and the black ship for Blackwell. The orange flame on the jet field for Flint. The grey arrow on the pink field for Harkon. The blue stream on the red field for Bralykburn. And the dozens of vassal houses each with their own colors.

 

But this little sailboat, in what’s no doubt an effort to be inconspicuous, flies no banners and in doing so raises the alarm from sailors, deckhands, and dock workers alike.  _ Strangers. Southerners? Is it the rebels? Or are they just criminals too cowardly to announce who they serve? _

 

Whoever he is, the man who arrives on it clearly isn’t familiar with the sea. He isn’t at home in oiled leather and his clothes are brand-new at that. He looks like he’s ready to throw up over the side, it takes him three tries to tie off the bowline, and he nearly falls into the sea when the vessel bobs while he steps onto the dock. 

 

Three docks over, Dalla looks up from checking her own lines for fraying to watch the newcomer. She doesn’t recognize him, which strikes her odd. Blackhold’s a common port destination, but most merchants don’t get this close to her family’s fleet. What sort of visit would call for plain sails?

 

A familiar laugh snaps her out of her thoughts as Cade’s voice giggles  “You don’t know what you’re doing!” 

 

For a second she allows herself to think Cade’s safely talking to the Brylks, but the stranger turns to face her baby brother and says “No, I don’t.” 

 

“If it’s on the water, it floats.” Cade smiles and stands, ignoring his Brylks’ begging for more food. “Where are you from?”

 

The man shifts his weight to get used to the solid dock under his feet and says “Iziz.” 

 

Fear closes around Dalla’s throat like ice followed by  _ oh, kriff no.  _

 

She knew this was coming. There’s only one reason anyone from Iziz would come this far north. But the pause gave her a false sense of security, made her think that just maybe Rash took no for an answer when she really should have sharpened her senses with every passing second. What kind of plan does this Iziz man in his shabby disguise have? Grab Cade and use him as a hostage to tempt her south? Or is he more straightforward and wants to take only her?

 

_ We look like everyone else. I am not the Dalla Blackwell Rash has in mind. He probably doesn’t know who we are.  _ Dalla drops the lines in a heap on the dock and starts half-jogging toward Cade and the stranger. 

 

“Brother!” she yells, refusing to use Cade’s name and relinquish her only advantage. “Brother, why are you ignoring your Brylks?” 

 

Cade turns around to get a better look at her. “D--,” his face falls for a half second when he sees her and he swallows the rest of her name. “Hi?” 

 

“What’s going on?” Dalla reaches her brother and wraps an arm around him, crossing his chest, while the other inches for the knife on her belt. “Who is this?”

 

The man bows. “Good morning, miss. General Tandin, of the Royal Militia.” 

 

_ Great. Confirmed.  _ “You must be looking for Lord Blackwell. We’ll inform Captain Jamos of your arrival and he can take you to the lord.” She switches her grip to Cade’s bicep, better to haul him away, but it doesn't seem necessary. Even Cade knows the Royal Militia spells bad news. 

 

“Watch for spray on the docks,” Cade squeaks and turns to scuttle away when the general calls after them. 

 

“Thank you, Cade Blackwell. And you must be Dalla,” General Tandin nods first to Cade, then to her. “I was sent to kidnap you.” 

 

Dalla tightens her grip on Cade. “I don't know who you are, but every man in this harbor is sworn to protect House Blackwell. Some of them have been my crew for years. All we have to do is say the word and --.”

 

“That won't be necessary. Luckily for the both of us, I don’t want to die today,” the man knits his hands behind his back and walks up the dock, past Dalla’s and Cade’s slackjawed faces. “Tell me dear, where can I find your father?” 

 

…

 

“He just sailed into the harbor?” Marlon cries in disbelief from atop the throne in the great hall. “No banners? And no one stopped him even when he came within arms’ reach of my children? Cade, Dalla, are you alright? Where’s your brother?” 

 

“We’re fine,” Dalla says. “Cade, where’s Thias?” 

 

“He’s with his friends sparring,” 

 

“Retrieve my son,” Marlon orders one of the sailors who followed them in. “And as for you, let me get this straight,” He glares at the general. “Sanjay Rash sent you to kidnap my daughter, and you’re not going to.” 

 

“That’s right, my lord.” General Tandin shuffles his feet as if he’s not sure he should still be kneeling. He ducks his head instead. 

 

Marlon isn’t impressed. “If this is your way of coaxing me into handing over Dalla, you can stop now.” 

 

“I’m terrible at coaxing, so I don’t try it. In fact, I don’t aim to leave with your daughter at all.” 

 

“Then what are you doing here?” Dalla shouts. “If you’re not here to kidnap me, and you’re not --.” 

 

“Dalla!” Marlon snaps and turns his attention back to General Tandin. “General, I will only ask you once. Why, exactly, are you in the north?” 

 

Tandin crosses his arms over his chest, a position Dalla assumes is more comfortable than the formal stance he’s been holding. “King Rash sent me here to retrieve Dalla Blackwell and bring her south to be wed. With the turmoil in Iziz, I understood his reasons.” 

 

“You’re not giving us many reasons to spare your life,” Marlon interrupts. 

 

“I’m not finished. Rash neglected to include images when he gave me this assignment, so I did some of my own research. In doing so, I discovered --” he glances toward Dalla. “Your family’s reputation for seeking justice for members who have been wronged. And in all honestly, I would rather not take a tour of the bottom of the Northern Seas.” 

 

Marlon leans back in his chair. “Continue.”

 

“Even if I succeeded taking Dalla out of the harbor, I would be dead before I reached Iziz,” Tandin admits. “Your navy would have come after me, Dalla would kill me herself, my sailing skills leave much to be desired -- the possibilities are endless. And like I said, I plan to live a long time.”

 

That's not going to be an easy thing if he returns without her. Dalla sticks her neck out. “How do you plan on doing that? I don’t know if you haven’t noticed, but Rash doesn’t take no for an answer.” 

 

“I understand that better than you. You’re lucky I’m the first one he sent.” 

 

Lucky Tandin knows how to self-preserve? Yes. “Don’t I know it?” 

 

“You don’t,” Tandin corrects her.  “Rash wanted to send Separatist droids, but Count Dooku forbade it. He said Rash has the militia already and the droid army is not for his personal use.” 

 

That gives pause to everyone in the room. Yes, Blackhold is built to withstand a siege. Yes, it held during the Mandalorian Wars. But the might of the Separatist army would tear the castle apart. 

 

“How long has he been planning this?” Marlon demands. 

 

“Since you rejected the marriage.” 

 

They rejected the match two weeks ago.

 

Marlon sits up straight. “Do you know the identities of the other potential threats?” 

 

“There are none at the moment,” Tandin replies. “Rash has complete trust in my abilities, the question of my self-preservation and my morals aside. The question now is how to proceed. If I don’t bring a girl back to Iziz, he’ll send others. But here, we have an advantage.” He turns around to get the measure of Dalla. “I believe Rash doesn’t know what your daughter looks like. If you know someone a bit older who looks like her, we can send a decoy.” 

 

A body double. Dalla briefly considers this. If Rash doesn’t know about her accident, then they actually have a chance. But who could they send? A random girl who happens to resemble her? While that might work for Rash, it's dishonorable and it would send House Blackwell’s reputation through the floor. 

 

“If Rash claims he has Dalla, it carries  the same effect as actually having her,” her father announces. “It’s a good plan, but unfortunately it won’t work. You’ll need to simply tell him you failed.” 

 

“In that case, I’d appreciate if one of you would give me a good black eye.” 

 

Marlon rises from his seat and walks down the stairs until he closes ranks with Tandin.

 

“You are a very smart man,” he says and punches him in the face. 

 

…

 

“Would you like ice? I feel bad not giving you ice,” Shara worries. 

 

“Salt gods Shara, he’s a militiaman. I’m sure he’s fine,” Jamos sighs. 

 

“It needs to look real,” General Tandin examines his black eye and split lip in the refresher mirror. “I’ll ask someone to bruise up my ribs before I set sail. But I have a few days before that.” 

 

“And how do you plan to spend those few days?” Jamos snorts. 

 

“I do have a soft spot for fishing,” Tandin admits. “If you’d be so kind as to recommend a good place to start?” 

 

“Any dock in the north,” Jamos replies. “Or if you prefer the open water, all you have to do is drop your anchor.” 

 

“When Jamos took me fishing by ourselves we started in the bay,” Shara recommends. “It’s a good place for inexperienced sailors.” 

 

“That I am.” Tandin cracks a smile. “Thank you for the tip, Mrs. Blackwell.” 

 

“Just Shara. This is my husband Jamos,” she gestures to her husband. “I remember you from the Fete, when we were younger.” 

 

“Ah, the Fete. I looked forward to attending that every year.” he winces when he touches his swollen eye. 

 

“General,” Shara says. “May I ask an unusual question?” 

 

“Of course, my lady.” 

 

Shara wrings her hands. “Have the dalgos come into season yet?” 

 

Tandin turns away from the mirror. 

 

“They have,” he says. “The rupings have too. I thought you didn’t have such creatures in the north.” 

 

“We don’t,” she answers, meeting his eyes. “It’s too cold for them to survive, or I would have brought mine with me when I came to the north.” 

 

“I remember your trick riding. It would be hard to forget, even if you had a different name back then.” 

 

“I did,” Shara says wistfully. “I was once known as Shara Rupingwood and then for a short time as Shara Rash.” 

 

Tandin watches her watch him for so much a facial twitch. 

 

“Good thing it was a short time with that name,” Jamos spits. 

 

Shara gives him a look and he falls silent. 

 

“Jamos, may the general and I have a word?” She places a gentle hand on her husband’s arm, which turns the question into so much an order.

 

“Of course,” Jamos says, bends to kiss her forehead and leaves the room. 

 

The soft look melts from Shara’s face when her husband rounds the corner and for a second Tandin has to remind himself she’s not a Blackwell by blood. She's the mirror image of Dalla on the docks. 

 

“You live in the south. Have you seen a man around my age named Bremon Kira?”

 

“Kira?” He repeats. “He was at the Fete every year. Isn't that the man who married the Rash girl, over a dozen years ago?”

 

“Melaana,” Shara reminds him. “And it was seventeen years ago. Have you heard of him recently?”

 

Tandin shakes his head. “I'd imagine he's still where he was seventeen years ago, flying around the jungle on that ruping of his dreaming of what could have been with his wife and child.”

 

Shara’s face falls. “Oh. He hasn't come back to the city?”

 

“Not that the royal militia is aware. We would have logged a member of a great House.” 

 

“He might soon,” She continues. “If you find him, tell him where I am. Tell him I’d like to see him again, and he's always welcome at Blackhold.” 

 

“I will, Shara.” He bows his head dutifully and goes back to his eye.

 

“One more thing,” Shara says, voice slicing into him like a knife. “You work with Sanjay Rash. Who is he?”

 

Tandin blinks, confused. “My lady, he's the ki --.”

 

“I know he's the king.” Shara's voice drops. “Seventeen years ago, I was married to him. You know that. And the man demanding my niece’s hand is not the man I married. So tell me, not as a general or a professional but as a person with two eyes in his head,  _ what kind of man is sitting the throne?”  _

 

Tandin grabs the sides of the sink. 

 

“He and Lady Rash were a volatile team, but after her death he’s relentless,” he says, staring into the sink bowl. “He wants the rebels gone. He wants your niece. And he isn’t going to stop until he has an heir and House Rash is the height of society.” 

 

Shara shuts the refresher door halfway. “He’s always wanted that. But he…” she gathers herself again. “He couldn’t get me pregnant in the two years we were together. I don’t know why he believes he’ll be able to produce an heir now. I have five children now with my husband, by the way. Four strong sons and a daughter, so it obviously wasn’t a failure on my part. And I may have been born in the south, but I assure you my heart and my resolve are a hundred percent northern, and if you come after one of us you come after all of us!” 

 

Tandin jumps at the sudden outburst. Shara composes herself. “He’s a filthy coward. His mother was a monster, and she poisoned him into one.  He was a coward when I left him, and he is now. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. General, I remember you and Dane Bonteri working together in Iziz before I left. I remember you every year at the Summer Fete and carrying the casket at my father’s funeral. You were honorable men. I know you’re still that man. I know fear of death isn't the reason you didn't take Dalla.”

 

Tandin shuts off the tap. 

 

“I’ll try to warn you when he sends others,” he says. “But I swore a sacred oath to serve my king. I need to go back and fulfill it as best I can.” 

 

“The honorable way isn’t with Rash,” Shara insists. “Dane’s son realized that already. When you do, he’ll help you. And if he doesn’t, then we will. House Blackwell pays its debts.” 

 

Tandin meets her eyes in the mirror. 

 

“When I come back from my fishing trip, I’ll ask your husband to bruise my ribs.” He says. “Thank you for your hospitality, Shara. If I see your friend, I’ll be sure to give him your message.”

 

“I look forward to the day.” 

 

Tandin hears the rest of the sentence:  _ I look forward to the day you stop serving a coward. _

 

But Shara just smiles. “My children should be home by now. I’ll leave you to your fishing trip.”

 

…

 

Thias and Cade Blackwell lean over a board game spread across Thias’ bedroom floor, their eyes glued to the pieces. 

 

Thias moves one of his pieces three squares. “You’re saying King Rash sent a general to Blackhold?” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Cade replies and picks up one of his own pieces. “He’s fishing in the bay right now.” 

 

“Where’s Dal?” 

 

“With father in his office.” Cade sets the piece on the board with a  _ thunk.  _ “Where else?”

 

That makes him feel a little better. Usually Thias would be hurt that Father hadn't brought him into the equation, but no doubt the conversation is about security and politics. Thias knows exactly how Dalla manages security, and politics bores him stiff. 

 

“What's Father’s plan?” He says and moves another piece. Whatever their father’s coming up with, it won't suit an eleven-and-fifteen-year-old with protectiveness in their blood. “If Rash is sending people to kidnap Dalla, then we have to do something. It’s an insult!” Thias makes a mental note to carry a charged blaster with him at all times, just in case Sanjay Rash has the nerve to show up in the north himself. “We don’t take insults sitting down.” 

 

“Father just wants to keep Dalla safe,” Cade announces. “He’s called Houses Harkon and Flint and their bannermen to stop and search any vessel that isn’t flying a banner they recognize. No way is Rash going to fly northern colors.” 

 

“He’s too pompous to,” Thias mumbles and shoves one of his pieces along the course with his index finger. “What about the others?” 

 

“What other bannermen do we have?” Cade whispers. “Rash has the south in a chokehold. Who would give up a chance to get on his good side by backing the north?” 

 

Thias looks at the game board. Cade’s always been better at this one that him, and it shows. His little brother has his pieces boxed into a corner yet again, and he’s only a few moves away from winning his sixth game in a row. He wants to pound something: if he can’t even think his way out of a board game, how’s he supposed to think his way out of a battle? How’s he supposed to tell Rash to keep his hands off the Blackwells with just enough anger to keep him at bay, but not so much that would bring the Rash bannermen down on their heads? How’s he supposed to keep his sister from doing the terrible thing he knows she’ll do if there’s no way out but down the aisle? He’s half-tempted just to cheat at the game so he at least feels like he’s getting some control, because right now he’s -- 

 

“Someone with nothing left to lose,” he realizes. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

Thias gets up, the game forgotten. “Cade, do you remember Mina Bonteri?” he asks and yanks open one of his dresser drawers. 

 

“The senator? Should I?” Cade asks, following his brother. 

 

“She and her family came to the Hold for Mom’s funeral.” Nothing in this drawer but socks. Thias tries the next. “She helped Aunt Shara take care of us.” 

 

“She gave me candied jogans,” Cade remembers. 

 

Thias remembers the candied jogans too. They were a treat Mina had brought from Bonteri Estate and given to the boys to keep them busy while she, Aunt Shara, Uncle Jamos, and Dane Bonteri were trying to set Dalla’s broken bones. 

 

“Before she left, Mina told me that if we ever needed anything to just comm her,” his fingers brush something silk and he grabs the it. “She’s dead now, but her son Lux is supposed to be with the rebels. He’s a fugitive on the run for speaking against Rash and Dooku --.” 

 

“He could help,” Cade realizes. “His parents were our bannermen and the rebels want Rash gone anyway. If they help us, then we could team up and get rid of him together. Like the Beast Wars!”

 

The Beast Wars are kind of a stretch, Thias thinks and yanks the piece of silk free from his drawer. It’s a small banner, Bonteri violet with their silver rose stitched in the center. Still a risky banner to fly, but less risky than their own. 

 

Cade furrows his brow. “That’s it? We’re supposed to contact him with a banner?” 

 

“It must have come undone,” Thias explains, removes the drawer from the dresser and upends it. 

 

When they pick out the wrinkled pieces of his clothing, they’re left with wrappers for the candied jogans he was supposed to give Dalla when she could have sticky foods again. Thias ate the candy long ago, but the little slip of flimsi with Mina Bonteri’s handwriting is good as new. He picks it up with his thumb and forefinger like it’ll dissolve in his hands. 

 

“We’re going to contact him with this.” 

 

“Great!” Cade runs to the other end of the room and grabs his comlink. “It should still be light in Iziz; let’s call him now.” 

 

“Not yet,” Thias folds the flimsi and puts it in his pocket. “He's not going to listen to us. We need Father. Otherwise it would be like baiting a line with wood.”

 

“We have the navy. If we tell them we have a navy, they have to help us!”

 

“We don't have the authority to give them the navy. Only Father does. And without the navy, they don't have a reason to help us.” 

 

“We can't wait!” Cade cries, going for the flimsi again. 

 

Thias holds it above his head, out of Cade’s reach. “We only have one chance. Once Father and Dalla are done talking I'll go ask him about when we should.”

 

“We have to do it now!” His baby brother’s face has gone tomato-red from anger and now he’s speaking a mile a minute. “That man says that Rash is gonna send other people! They're going to come and raid Blackhold and take Dalla back with them and maybe you and then --.”

 

Thias slowly lowers the flimsi. 

 

_ It’s not anger he’s red from,  _ he realizes.  _ It’s fear.  _

 

“And then I’m going to be all alone,” Cade sniffs. “I can’t do it. I don’t want to run the north. I want to be a beastmaster like Aunt Shara and work with Brylks and guide the catches and help the navigators set the course when they guide the ships.”

 

He wipes his nose with his sleeve. “I don’t want to be alone. And if Rash gets his way that’s going to happen.” 

 

Anger flares in Thias. He wanted to kill Sanjay Rash just as bad as Uncle Jamos did when he first heard about the betrothal, but now the false king’s done worse. He’s messed with the baby of their branch of the family. 

 

With the flimsi again stored safely in his pocket, Thias opens his arms and Cade buries his face in his chest.

 

“That's not going to happen,” he murmurs and rubs his little brother’s back. “I swear to the salt gods, Cade. We’re not going to leave you all alone.” 

 

…

 

“Rash will send others with no honor and no fear of death,” Tandin says while the sun breaks over Blackhold’s docks and Dalla runs a final check over his vessel. “And make no mistake, they will find you. You need to decide what you’ll do when that happens.” 

 

Dalla looks out over the harbor. 

 

“I already have,” she says as if they’re the only two on the dock. As if a score of her crew aren’t standing with hands on weapons just in case he gets second thoughts about not kidnapping her.  

 

Tandin follows her gaze to the castle’s stone steps, eroded and repaired over the years and leading directly into the sea.  

 

He doesn’t respond. Does he approve? Does he have the wrong idea? Or is he just glad she has any plan at all?

 

The silence is shattered by a woman’s heavy footsteps and “Dalla Niamh Blackwell, don’t tell me you’re sending that man south without some food!” 

 

Maris, the owner of Blackhold’s best pub and inn, bustles up the dock with an enormous basket in her hands. 

 

“It’s quite alright,” Tandin says. “I have plenty of ration bars --.” 

 

“You know what tastes better than ration bars? Sand.” Maris thrusts the basket into his hands. “Now you eat the nyorks first. They’ll go bad and your tum won’t thank you for that.” She swats his midsection with the back of her hand and he winces. It must hurt like hell, so close to the ribs Jamos bruised for him but he doesn’t let on. 

 

Maris does. “The fish is salted. It’ll last longer. Should hold you out for the whole journey. Oh, and the fruit cake! That’s Shara’s specialty but you’re not to let that king get a whiff of it! You make sure it’s all gone afore you get to the city.” 

 

“Yes ma’am, of course.” 

 

“I ain’t no ma’am. Just run the pub and the inn. But I won’t have nobody saying our northern hospitality is outshone by your southern ‘otels.”  She brushes her hands off on her skirt and playfully wags a finger at Dalla. “You learned anything from me, girl? Sendin’ a man off with ration bars!” 

 

“I hear you loud and clear, Maris. That’s why we put him up in your inn.” 

 

“And good thing you did!” Maris gives Tandin a final look and heads back down the dock. “Remember, nyorks first!” 

 

Tandin watches her go down the dock and peeks into the basket when he can’t see her anymore.

 

“You should set sail,” Dalla interrupts. “You’ll want to take advantage of all the daylight you can.” 

 

She holds the boat in place while he steps in with the basket and settles himself on his seat to take the sail. 

 

“You made it this far. I trust you can get back,” she says and unties the bowline. 

 

“I’ll manage,” he grunts. “It’s harder with bruised ribs, but I’d rather have them than your knife in my eye.” 

 

“There are inns. They’ll keep you if you have credits.”

 

Tandin makes no move to disclose whether or not he has credits. “The north is the safest place for you, my lady.” The wind catches his sail and he steers away from the dock. “Whatever you do, you have the advantage on the water.”  

 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she replies after a while. “How do you plan to explain to Rash why you don’t have me?” 

 

“Your father’s an observant man,” he shouts over the water. “And he protects his children. It won’t take much to --.”

 

The wind tears the rest of his words away. 


	4. Shara's Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shara does her job and the captain makes things complicated.

SHARA

This was it. It was finally time to prove that she could do what she was commissioned on this voyage to do. She'd spent almost two weeks watching holos about the proper technique although most of them were more about the reckless daredevil type practitioners who cared more about showing off for the holocam than actually achieving a productive result. 

 

While she watched and learned all she could, she had kept her hands busy by sizing down the uniform she would need to do the job. She wasn't the best seamstress. She wouldn't win any fashion awards, but she did manage to take in the oiled leather jerkin and pants enough so that she could move around in them and still stay reasonably dry.

 

Shara now sat in the ship's boat with two rowers. They looked at her ominously as if worried that she might take down the boat with all of them in it. That was a possibility, but she didn't intend to let it happen.

 

They rowed out several meters from the ship and one of the men asked, “You ever done anything like this? Sure you can handle it?”

 

She knew the Captian wouldn't like to hear them talk about her like that. But there came a point when she stand up for herself and today was that day.

 

“Not exactly like this, no.” She answered trying to retain her concentration. “I can swim well though. Once I was thrown from the back of my dalgos while trying to herd fambaas across a river.”

 

The men didn't look reassured but they dutifully rowed her out into the midst of the pod of Brylks. Shara reached over the side of the boat as far as she dared to touch one of the animals and then she smiled. The beast reared up so that its head was level with her and stared at her with one huge eye.

 

It was female, Shara thought. She could tell from the markings and the shape and size of the dorsal fin that poked up out of the water behind the massive head. “Alright, girl.” Shara said to it. “You ready to have some fun?”

 

The creature sang out a cry of agreement and then dove, arching her back like a jungle cat so that Shara's hand would stroke her all the way down to her tail fin.

 

“Let's do this!” Shara stood, looking around for what she needed. She tried to ignore her rowers expressions of alarm. There was a mooring rope tied to the front of the boat. “Bow.” She mumbled to herself, “bowline.” She took the rope up in her hand feeling the weight of it and then wrapped it once around her wrist as she would have Sophia's reigns.

 

Shara climbed up to stand on the board the had been her seat, feeling the roll of the waves through the soles of her boots. This nearly sent the two men into a panic. “Please, Miss! You really shouldn't!"

 

“Captain told us…"

 

“Row!” She ordered them, defiantly. She bent her knees slightly for balance as they picked up speed. This she could do. It was exactly like standing on Sophia's back and bringing her from a walk, to a trot, to a rolling galop and then finally to a smooth run.

 

Shara looked around her at the pod of Brylks, their curved backs breaking the surface of the water just like the backs of the fambaas herd emerging from the tall grasses of the prairie back home. She pulled at the bowlines but they weren't reigns. Steering this thing was going to be a little different.

 

“Turn a bit ri…” but then she remembered and corrected the order. “Veer starboard!”

 

The men did so and she leaned into the turn. The wind hit her full in the face along with the thrill of the acceleration and she laughed. Her hair streamed out behind her and she felt truly alive probably for the first time since they had lost Mel.

 

Now she just had to prove that she was as good a beast master as she had claimed when she signed on for this voyage. She almost froze as the memory of the calls she had learned from the holos seemed to fly away from her on the wind. She did know how to call other animals, however, and as she scanned the waves to her left and right she saw that same female keeping pace and watching her as if waiting for instruction.

 

Shara sang out a high pitched trill, “LeeLeeLeeLeeLee!” And the Brylks surged around her some of them taking up calls of their own.

 

“Never heard it done that way, Miss.” One of her rowers whistled.

 

She grinned and glanced back at the ship. The captain was at the rail seemingly captivated by the sight of her, but she couldn't look back at him for long. She returned her gaze to the waves before her and located the darker patch of water that she knew indicated their quarry.

 

“There!” She pointed ahead and then sang out to the Brylks again. Then to the men she called out, “On my signal, hard to port.” She was proud that she remembered the correct term this time. She patiently waited for just the right moment and then bellowed out to both men and beast, “HAH! HAH!”

 

Shara leaned into the turn and her hair whipped into her face but when she swept the loose honey colored strands away with her free hand she saw that they had done it! They had turned the shoal of fish towards the waiting nets of the men on the ship.

 

Her rowers both gave an exultant whoop and she heard the cheers echoing from the ship as well.

 

“Circle 'round the port side!” She ordered happily.

 

“Aye aye, ma’am!” Came the enthusiastic reply.

 

As the little boat rounded the bow of the bigger one the captain ran to the port rail and yelled something down to them, “Marr…” The rest was torn away by the wind.

 

“What did he say?” Shara asked.

 

One of her men winked at the other, “I think it was a proposal!”

 

She might have blushed if her cheeks were not already flushed with excitement and exertion. “We'll, come on. We're not done yet. Let's give it another turn to tighten the noose on those fishies!”

 

“Aye aye, ma'am!”

 

It was a bit easier the second time now that beast master and men and Brylks were all working together and when Shara looked back at the deck of the ship again she saw that it was taking all hands to bring in the nets that were full to bursting.

 

Shara's friend, that first female Brylk who had given her a chance and had helped to bring all the others over to her side came along and sang out the pride of her accomplishment.

 

“You did beautifully, Melaana!” Shara named her there on the spot and reached out to pet the creature affectionately.

 

“Lana?” One of the men laughed. “Don't know how Lady Blackwell will feel about having a Brylk for a namesake."

 

“Not Lana,” Shara explained, still rubbing down the beast and smiling. “Melaana, after a good friend, and I think she'd be pleased to share her name with such a deserving lady.”

 

They kept the little boat back away from the ship during the chaos of the initial catch but as soon as the waters began to calm again the rowers brought her alongside and a sort of rope swing was dropped over the side to bring the triumphant beast master back up to the deck. She was winched up slowly so that she wouldn't swing against the side and then pulled in over the rail. 

 

The crew all gave her three cheers. She hadn't even seen the captain through all the excitement until there was a cloak draped around her shoulders and she was suddenly drawn into his arms and he was kissing her passionately.

 

Everything else faded in the light of that kiss until she remembered that she couldn't do this. Shara shoved herself out of his embrace, drew back her hand and slapped him hard across the face. His eyes were almost as wide with shock as her own. Silence surrounded them for several seconds and then it was replaced by cheers and laughter.

 

_ Frack _ ! She realized,  _ I just struck an officer _ ! But he had kissed her!

 

“I'm sorry,” she said immediately. “But I can't. You know I can't.”

 

Shara ran from the deck down to her cabin. She dropped his cloak just outside the door, then stepped inside, slammed the door shut, and locked it. Then she leaned back against it and buried her face in her hands.

  
  


JAMOS

From the moment she came out on deck that morning, Jamos hadn't been able to take his eyes off her. She wore the altered, oiled leathers that had once been his own, even though she belittled her sewing skills. He thought she looked beautiful. 

 

She was like a delicate southern flower. He could hardly bare to watch her climb down into the ship's boat. He had sworn the men he sent with her, two of his most trusted, to make sure she came back safe and sound.

 

There were a few moments as he watched her that he was sure he would have to give both of those men a blaster bolt between the eyes for allowing her to act so recklessly. Then he watched in amazement as she did the job better than any beast master he had ever seen. And the smile on her face, the absolute joy and freedom! It was such a contrast to the sad, frightened girl he had spoken to on the deck a week before, captive to the vows she had made to a monster.

 

“Marry me!” He yelled down to her from the rail as she and the men rowed past on their first circuit. He didn't know if she heard him. He would keep asking until he got the answer he wanted. He would free her from that mockery of a union, whatever it took. He wanted to spend his life keeping that smile on her face.

 

It hardly mattered that the catch was the biggest they'd had in a decade. When Shara Rash was aboard once again, Jamos could only think of having her in his arms. Perhaps he should have asked but he was sure he felt her respond and lean in towards him when their lips met. Just for a moment, that is, until she broke away and slapped him in front of his entire crew.

 

And what did he do? He stood there and rubbed his cheek and watched her go. He supposed she was right. He shouldn't have done it. He should have approached her more discreetly. But, salt gods! Even now, all he could think about was kissing her again.

 

With a roguish smile to save face in front of his crew he followed but when he reached her door it was closed and locked. His cloak was lying in a heap on the floor just outside. Okay, maybe the cloak had been a stupid idea. He couldn't officially take her under his protection if she was married to someone else, but she'd been in the water. He didn't want her to be cold. 

 

“Shara?”

 

There was silence for a few seconds and then she finally spoke. “I shouldn't have struck you, Captain. I'm not sure what the regular punishment is for such a thing. It must be pretty serious. If you could please have mercy… just put me off upon our next landing. I've done the job I signed on for. I hope that makes up for in some way…”

 

“Shara, please open the door.”

 

Quiet again and then a muffled. “Are you going to punish me as a member of the crew for striking a superior officer?”

 

“I wasn't planning on it.”

 

“Captain…”

 

“Please call me Jamos.”

 

“Captain,” she repeated more firmly. “Do you consider me a member of the crew? I did perform the task I signed on to complete.”

 

He leaned against the door wishing more than anything to be on the other side of it with her. “You performed beautifully but no I don't suppose I really consider you part of the crew. You are….” She was so much more. But he didn't get a chance to even try to explain.

 

“If you won’t be punishing me for what I did I’ll… I’ll just remain in here for the rest of the voyage. I think it would make things... easier.”

 

“Shara, I'm not going to punish you because it was…” It wasn't easy for him to admit. “It was my fault. I shouldn't have kissed you, in front of the crew.” He hurried to include that last bit. He was quite sure that he should kiss her and often. He bent to pick up his cloak and wadded it up in his arms.

 

“No, you should not. You knew that I have a husband, that I'm not free to…” was she crying again? “And I thought I had just proved that I wasn't just brought along on this journey to be your whore.”

 

“What did you say?” He was livid. “Did one of the men say something? Did they…”

 

She opened the door suddenly and he only barely caught himself before stumbling in on top of her. She looked up at him in surprise and then a fierce frown creased her features before she spun away from him. “No. No one said anything. But what are they supposed to think. I'd never even been on a ship before and you sign me on for an integral part of the operation.”

 

“You said you could do it and you did.” He gritted his teeth, angry that anyone would think such things about this pure, perfect creature. He was more angry with himself for putting her in that position.

 

“I did, but I don't believe any one of them thought me capable until I showed them.” She lifted her chin proudly.

 

He wanted to take a step further into the room and close the door behind them but under the circumstances… “What did they think, I would just send you out there to fail, to ruin our mission, to die trying?” his voice softened.

 

“Were you worried that might happen?” She looked up at him again with those beautiful eyes.

 

He swallowed and resisted the urge to take her in his arms. If his arms weren't full of the cloak he most likely would have. “There's a danger even for experienced sailors.”

 

“And yet you let me try.” Her gaze flitted down to his lips for a moment before she looked away again. “Thank you. The Brylks were amazing.” her own lips turned up into a smile. “I wish I could work with them all the time. I'll miss them when I go back home.”

 

He did a double take. “You're not thinking of going back? You said there was nothing left for you there. You're the most amazing…” He gazed at her and then cleared his throat, “the best beast master I've ever seen.”

 

“Ja- Captain, I'm married. I needed to get away for a while to think things out but I can't… I was foolish to think…” Her hand reached out and she touched the fabric of his cloak as if she fully understood its significance.

 

“Shara, you can't go back to him. The way he treated you... “ He pulled his hand from the tangle of cloth and laid it gently on her shoulder and then caressed her cheek. “As your captain I can order you to stay.”

 

She closed her eyes allowing herself to enjoy his touch only for a moment. “You said you didn't consider me part of the crew. You can't order me to…” She pushed his hand away. “Please just go. We can’t be… It would only prove him right. Even if he doesn’t love me anymore. If he only wants me for... I have to go back to him. He could make things difficult for you…for your family…”

 

“Let my family and I worry about that.” Jamos couldn’t help but smile, she did have feelings for him.

 

His smile only seemed to frustrate her more. “Just go!” she gave him a shove out the door and quickly closed it. Her words were muffled through the door and another sob but he was almost sure she said, “I can’t fall in love with you.”

 

Unless he was very much mistaken, she already had.

 

Sullen and thoroughly unrequited, Jamos made his way back up to the deck. For a moment he didn't remember why his men were in such a celebratory mood.

 

“Didn't the beast master want to drink to her first catch with the rest of us?” One of them asked.

 

And another called out. “I think she'd rather have a private party with the captain.”

 

A chorus of cheers followed. They were already well into the grog. Grog that Jamos had allowed them for a job well done and if it were any other day and any other catch he would be right there with them. Right now he wasn't in the mood. “You all need to lay off Beast Master Rash. She just wants to be alone.”

 

“Sorry, Captain.” One of the lads spoke up for the rest.

 

Then another lifted his mug. “Yeah, Captain. Sorry she didn't want to celebrate with you either.” another round of laughter and cheers. It was useless to try to reason with them in this state.

 

Jamos grabbed a bottle on the way to his own cabin. But he looked back at the men before he entered it. “You really want to celebrate? Why not do it in the pub when we get back into harbor. Is anyone sober enough to sail this tub back to the Hold?”

 

It took a second for all of them to realize that it wasn't just a suggestion but after Jamos had heard enough, “Aye, Captain”s he slipped into his private cabin, tossed his cloak onto his bunk, grabbed a tumbler from a tray on his desk, and poured himself a drink.

 

Jamos wasn't generally a heavy drinker and this was the reason. He felt awful the next morning. Caff and breakfast and the news that they were well on their way to the Blackhold was enough to bring up his spirits a good deal. Then with men turning their faces away from him so that he wouldn't see their knowing grins or whistling snatches of a rather bawdy tune about the Captain's Lady, he made his way down to see how Shara had fared the night. 

 

He had never blistered a man's back with the cat for singing or smiling and he didn't really want to start now. If it was only him they were roasting he’d have laughed along but Shara didn't deserve any of it.

 

He knocked on her door. “Miss Rash, are you awa…”

 

“ _ Mrs _ . Rash.” She corrected before he could finish asking the question.

 

“Mrs. Rash.” He repeated, hating the words. “Can I speak to you?”

 

“I believe you are speaking to me, Captain.” She answered evidently with no intention to open the door.

 

He sighed, “Shara, we’re making our way back to Blackhold. When we get there you are of course free to go on wherever you feel you need to go.”

 

“Thank you, Cap…”

 

“No, I want you to hear me out.” He leaned close to the door speaking as firmly and desperately as he could without yelling. “I know you may not be ready to open your heart again. I know you've been hurt. But please don't go back and let him hurt you anymore. My family will shelter you if you need protection.”

 

She didn't say a word for almost a full galactic minute.

 

“Shara?”

 

“Yes, I - I heard you. Thank you for your concern, but I think it would really be better for everyone if I just went back home.”

 

He wanted to break down the door and try to make her see sense. He had to swallow his own pride to say, “Of course you don't have to make a decision right now. Just - just think about it.” He didn't wait for a reply just stormed back up to the deck. He stood by the wheel making the wheelman none too nervous. 

 

He wished he could make the wind blow harder, to make the ship move faster but at the same time he was afraid that as soon as they docked Shara would be away south to Iziz and he’d never see her again. In that case he wanted to drop anchor sit in front of her door and just get her to talk. Even if she was yelling at him it didn't matter as long as he could hear her voice.


	5. Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By: L.S.
> 
> As if things couldn't get any worse, Dalla learns of a new complication.

Thank the salt gods for northern loyalty. Dalla inks a large, black check mark next to House Harkon’s name on her list. They were the first to return her request for assistance with just the answer she was hoping for: House Harkon is House Blackwell’s oldest ally. Why would they stop supporting them now?

 

Now how many ships do the Harkons have? She goes back to her datapad and adds their numbers to her family’s own. With a few more houses, they have a fighting force in case Count Dooku changes his mind about those droids. Now it’s just a matter of getting the others to work for her. 

 

As if she needs one more thing going on, her comlink rings. She answers it without looking. “Hello?” 

 

_ “Lady Dalla,”  _ a deep male voice replies. 

 

“Just Dalla,” She says automatically before remembering she knows that voice. “General Tandin? How did you get this number?” 

 

_ “Dalla, we have an issue.”  _ General Tandin says, sounding like he needs a cup of caf. 

 

“What kind of issue?” She asks, resisting the urge to repeat the question of her comm number.

 

Tandin answers it anyway.  _ “I got your comm number from your cousin Kason’s comlink. That’s our problem.”  _

 

Dalla looks down to the caller’s identification. “This isn't Kason’s comlink.”

 

_ “No, it's mine and it would be a good idea to memorize the number or save it in yours.” _

 

That doesn’t add up. “When you came to Blackhold, Kason was on a fishing trip. How were you with him long enough for him to give you my number?” 

 

_ “I was apparently with Kason far longer than I thought,”  _ he groans.  _ “When I arrived in Blackhold, your cousin Emoth heard what happened on the docks from Cade and contacted Kason. He and his friends turned around, dropped him off at the Hold, and left again without him. They’re still on their voyage, which is why your aunt and uncle never realized he was back on land.”  _

 

Oh no. 

 

_ “I’m not sure why he did it or how I didn’t notice, but while we were talking to Maris Kason stowed away in my cargo hold and I didn’t realize until we reached the port in Iziz.”  _

 

Dalla momentarily drops the comlink and fumbles to catch it again. “He’s in Iziz? Is he okay? Put him on the comm!”  _ So I can lay into him good for doing something so dumb.  _

 

_ “I’m afraid that isn’t possible, Dalla. When we docked, Rash was in the harbor waiting. He expected me to have you on board and wanted to give you a proper welcome.”  _ If you could bottle sarcasm, Tandin’s could supply a factory.  _ “He heard me arguing with Kason in the hold, assumed it was you, and ordered his droids to board.”  _

 

Dalla’s stomach sinks. “Did he --.” 

 

_ “I told Rash I had taken him as a hostage and since Kason doesn't know the finer points of my trip to the north, he didn't argue.” _

 

“Rash has him?” Dalla bleats. This is her worst fear come to life: if Rash has Kason then he can use him as a bargaining chip for her -- even her father might cave if Uncle Jamos and Aunt Shara are upset. Or he could kill him to make an example and shake the other houses’ resolve; torture him for Blackhold’s secrets (not that Kason knows many) to crack the stronghold and drag her south and straight to his bedchamber. 

 

_ “He does,”  _ Tandin says woefully.

 

“Is he okay?!”

 

_ “I checked on him a few minutes ago and he seems fine. Rash was affable at first; he smiled and gave Kason a lesson on guest right while we were in the royal carriage.” _

 

“Kason is a noble hostage. Hostages don't get guest right.” Be it the north or the south, Onderonian hospitality law is the same. 

 

_ “Exactly. Rash claimed I’d only kidnapped your cousin so he could act as a representative for House Blackwell to voice your family’s grievances over the match. He was polite and answered the boy’s questions, but he seemed rather...shocked.”  _

 

“Aunt Shara,” Dalla mumbles. “Kason looks just like Aunt Shara. He could have been Rash’s kid if he hadn’t been such a frakking--.” 

 

_ “That certainly explains a lot,”  _  Tandin cuts her off.  _ “I thought even I couldn’t save him after what he did, but Rash seemingly has no intention of hurting him.”  _

 

“What do you mean, after what he did?” 

 

_ “I mean that after Kason outlined your many reasons for refusing the match, Rash mentioned he would be willing to call off the betrothal if Kason stayed in the south for a while to learn its ways. Your cousin agreed, thinking the visit was temporary.” _

 

“Which it would not be.”

 

_ “Dalla, I daresay he was trying to groom Kason as an heir and thus wouldn't need you. Later Count Dooku contacted him for a status report, and Rash introduced Kason as his stepson.” _

 

Dalla resists the urge to shout every bit of colorful profanity the north has to offer. “He has no right!”

 

_ “Kason thought that too. He said ‘no way, not after what you did to my mom’ and then he flew at the king before anyone could stop him.”  _ This time she really does spit one of those profanities and Tandin raps out  _ “Young lady, you are not speaking to a sailor!” _

 

She's about to tell him  _ he's  _ speaking to the lady of the north, but decides it would be a bad idea. “What did he do, try to kill him?” 

 

_ “Not kill him. He threw himself at the king kicking and punching, trying to do all the damage he could. Got in a few good blows from what I saw.”  _

 

“You said this was in front of Count Dooku.” Dalla feels sick. “He saw the whole thing?”

 

_ “You don't need me to tell you being beaten down by a twelve-year-old in front of Count Dooku is extremely embarrassing. When the droids and I pulled him off Rash threw him into a cell. Right now he's in Dendup’s prison chambers and Rash has made no move to transfer him to interrogation.”  _

 

“Oh gods.” She sits down hard, her forehead in her free hand. “Oh gods, oh gods -- Uncle Jamos and Aunt Shara think he’s fishing!”

 

_ “Not for much longer. Rash plans to contact your family with his new demands in a few hours. I contacted you directly because I worried your father might be in close proximity with Jamos, and if I'm going to stay here to help Kason their surprise needs to be genuine or Rash will get suspicious.” _

 

“Break him out.” Dalla orders. “You’re a militiaman; you have the access codes. Break him out, bring him north, and I swear by your gods and mine that House Blackwell will make you a wealthy man.” What in the universe could Tandin want that Rash can't give him? “Credits, ships, a lordship, a position in our navy -- name it, and it's yours.”

 

_ “Unfortunately that's not something I can do right now.”  _

 

“Of course you can!”

 

_ “Not without exposing my disobedience and completely destroying my honor and family name, and eliminate any chance I have to help Kason in an emergency. One of the other militiamen is already suspicious, and Advisor Okalin asked how hard it could possibly be to kidnap an seventeen-year-old girl.”  _ Considering General Tandin could probably bench press her, she's inclined to agree.  _ “And to be completely honest with you, I wouldn't make it out of the palace with Kason before the droids captured us and then it would all be over.”  _

 

“I understand,” Even though she doesn't like it a bit. “Has Rash mentioned his demands?”

 

_ “There’s really only one -- that you marry him by the end of next week. He plans to demand the Blackwell navy as a dowry.”  _

 

“A dowry?” She sputters uselessly. “We haven't used dowries in centuries. His own family uses bride gifts.” 

 

_ “I believe he has a necklace he plans to give you.”  _

 

Dalla’s throat constricts just thinking about Rash’s hands fastening something around her neck. “A necklace I'd sooner use to garotte --.” 

 

Tandin goes on like he can't hear her.  _ “Whatever he says, you must stay in the north. The crown has a few ships, but the Blackwell navy can overtake them. It’s the safest place.”  _

 

“What about Kason?” she demands. “How safe is he down south?” Putting Kason in with Dendup can’t be a good sign. Everyone knows Rash has no love for his predecessor. 

 

_ “For now, relatively. When I last saw him, Dendup was talking with him and gave him something from his meal.”  _

 

“That’s reassuring.” Dalla can’t imagine Dendup gets a lot of food. She wants nothing more than for Tandin to put Kason on the line, but if he’s telling the truth -- and she can’t think of a reason he wouldn’t -- then it’s just too risky. If Kason has to stay put, the less he knows the better. “Thank you for the warning, General Tandin. If you’ll excuse me, I have …  _ arrangements  _ to make.” 

 

_ “Stay in the north,”  _ Tandin urges and hangs up. 

 

She has to admit, he’s thinking ahead. At least Kason has somebody down south who can help him. For now. Didn’t he say some others were already suspicious? 

 

She pushes it out of her mind. Right now, she has an emergency on her hands and there’s only one way to deal with an emergency of this sort. Dalla stuffs her comlink in her pocket and runs for her father’s office. He’s good at keeping a stony face no matter what people say to him, so un-surprise hopefully won’t raise any alarms. At any rate the lord of Blackhold should have some kind of plan when they get the comm from Iziz.

 

… 

 

“Father!” she shouts and shoves the door open without knocking. “Father, I just --.” 

 

Marlon wordlessly turns from the holotable and his grim mask turns horrified once he sees her. Dalla redirects her attention to the hologram, and her blood goes cold. 

 

Sanjay Rash smiles politely at her.  _ “Lady Dalla. It's a delight to finally meet you.”  _

 

_ I’m too late.  _ “My lord,” she says stiffly. 

 

“Is this how you conduct negotiations?” Marlon swoops back into the conversation. “You tell me you’ve kidnapped my nephew and then you flatter my daughter?” 

 

_ “I'm simply making introductions with my future wife.”  _

 

Marlon extends an arm in front of Dalla. “She is not your wife.” 

 

_ “For the good of Onderon, and the good of your nephew, she will be. For Kason’s safe return, I simply request you accept the betrothal contract. Dalla will be brought south by droid escort to await her wedding. The rest of the family is free to attend if they so wish. You can use the Blackwell navy, which I will take as a dowry.”  _

 

“Dowry,” Dalla scoffs. “You want my father’s navy, in exchange for what? A pretty ring?” 

 

_ “You cousin Kason is my honored guest, my lady,”  _ Rash explains, with emphasis on guest.  _ “He is to be the representative for your family if the others don't wish to attend our wedding.”  _

 

He's covering his bases. It wouldn't bode well for this marriage to be invalid after what happened with him and Aunt Shara. 

 

_ “Though if you would like a ring, I'm sure that can be arranged.”  _ Sure. He can get her one of those rings with poison barbs so she can do him in. 

 

“A bride and a fleet.” Marlon challenges. “These are your demands?”

 

_ “I have another,”  _ Rash preens.  _ “House Blackwell will bend the knee to House Rash. You will renounce your allegiance to all other Houses and declare me your only bannerman and the rightful king in Iziz and in the north.”  _

 

The Blackwells freeze. House Blackwell hasn’t bent the knee since Queen Talia took her throne back from General Vaklu, thousands of years ago. 

 

_ Blast it, Tandin.  _ Dalla seethes.  _ You didn’t tell me this. _

 

But there's no seething from Marlon. He balls his hands into fists and squares off with the holographic king. 

 

“You ask me to abandon the pacts my father made,” he growls. “Pacts I swore on my honor to uphold until the day I die.” The truth dawns on him. “You want me to renounce the Bonteris so my sailors won't protest when you lead them against their bannermen.” 

 

_ “House Blackwell also swore an oath to serve the crown in all times of strife,”  _ Rash reminds them.  _ “Onderon is in peril, and House Blackwell will do its duty when called upon.”  _

 

“I swore no oath to the serpent banners.” Marlon spits. “You call this duty. I call it spitting on the north’s honor and redacting my word -- and my  _ daughter!”  _ He presses his lips together in a stony line. “Dane Bonteri was twice the man you are. I'd sooner serve his ghost than you.” 

 

Rash’s eyes grow to the size of Dxun at the lord’s sudden outburst.

 

“ _ Treason _ ,” he hisses. 

 

“Aye, I see treason. It’s treason to throw your king from his throne. It’s treason to hold a boy hostage after you offer him the guest right.” 

 

Sanjay Rash’s mouth falls open like a fish flopping on a deck for a moment, and then his eyes snap from Marlon and bore into Dalla. 

 

Dalla stares right back like he doesn’t scare her, even though she sees every inch of the threat in his eyes. 

 

Marlon does too, and the staredown holds three.  

 

“You want my daughter?” He growls, placing a hand on Dalla’s shoulder. “Come and get her.”  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading, and don't forget to check out our forum!
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/myforums/DuchessKenobi/272031/


	6. welcoming committee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I first mentioned the Rash family’s vacation to Blackhold in chapter 46 of the Ashla Awareness, it seems to have left an impression on more than just Sanjay and his sister.

 

Soon enough they reached harbor and whether she hadn't realized it or whether she hadn't made up her mind and didn't want to face it yet, Shara wasn't just racing down the gangplank to get away from him.

 

There was, to Jamos’s surprise and delight, someone else coming up the to the Polaris’ deck almost as soon as they docked.

 

“Brother!” He called out, welcoming Marlon Blackwell, aboard along with his wife, Lana, and the newest member of the clan, the long awaited Dalla.

 

They were both beaming over the strong, healthy baby girl.

 

“It was a good voyage then?” Lana asked.

 

“Most of it.” Jamos wasn't sure how much of the story he was ready to tell them. That and he was just itching to get a chance to hold his niece.

 

“Looks like an unprecedented catch.” Marlon watched as the crates of fish were unloaded.

 

“Aye. Aye, it was good.”

 

Lana was the first to notice his distraction. “You took on a new beast master for this trip? How is _she_ working out?” There was a definite accent on the word ‘she’.

 

Jamos gave her a pained expression.

 

Lana passed the baby to her husband put her hands on her brother-in-law's shoulders. “Tell me.” It was amazing how the much shorter woman could make him feel so young when she looked so sternly up at him.

 

“She's amazing, strong, smart, beautiful. Her work with the Brylks…”

 

“First mate got a holo.” Marlon was holding the baby in one arm and a projector in his free hand.

 

“He did?” Jamos watched the girl in the projection as if she were brighter than a star, and Lana watched him.

 

“Whoa!” Marlon exclaimed when the girl turned the pod and the shoal with apparent ease. “She’s good.”

 

Lana cleared her throat and got a guilty look from her husband before she turned back to Jamos. “She sounds perfect. What's the problem?”

 

“Well,” he took a deep breath. “She married.”

 

“No.” Lana said cutting him off right there. “She's off limits. Don't even think about it. Let her go and move on.”

 

“It's not that simple, Lana.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “He was awful to her. She came up here to get away from him.”

 

“He hurt her?”

 

“Not physically, I don't think. No. But if you just hear her talk about it. I can't let her go back to that.”

 

Lana still didn't look convinced she glanced at her husband who gave her a 'leave me out of this’ shake of his head. She sighed and took charge. “Did you ever think that maybe this is a personal issue and you shouldn't get yourself and your family involved? I mean do you even know who she is, who her family is, who her _husband_ is?” She emphasized the word as if to remind him that the girl had a husband and he wasn't it.

 

“Her name is Shara Rash.” Jamos told her.

 

“Rash?” Marlon perked up.

 

Lana's reaction was incensed. “Rash!”

 

“Aye,” Jamos looked back and forth between them. “She said it was an important family but it wasn't a name that I thought I remembered. Should I?”

 

“Maybe not.” Lana looked thoughtful.

 

“It might not be the same one.” Marlon suggested, bouncing his daughter in his arms.

 

Lana smiled at her husband. She obviously loved him now but Jamos knew that his brother and sister-in-law had their problems in the past. “Where is she?” She asked gently.

 

“First cabin, below deck.” Jamos told her.

 

Lana patted his shoulder. “I'll talk to her.”

 

* * *

               

"Beast Master Rash?"

 

Shara wasn't sure which surprised her more the fact that the voice addressing her from the other side of the door was female or the compassion that she could almost feel radiating through the panel. "Yes?" she called back.

 

"I'm Lana Blackwell. I'd like to speak to you, if you'll let me in?"

 

Shara breathed deeply, rose from her tiny bunk, and took the barely two steps necessary to cross the room and open the door. When she did she found that the woman on the other side was not much older than she was herself. Yet the way she carried herself and the confidence in her voice made her appear much more mature than Shara felt at the moment. "You can call me, Shara."

 

"Shara." Lana smiled and looked around at the tiny cabin. "Cozy in here, isn't it?" She entered without asking and sat on the edge of the bed because it was the only seat. Shara closed the door and also sat.

 

"You haven't been closeted in here for the whole voyage, I hope. Well other than your marvelous job with the catch, I mean."

 

Shara shook her head. "No, not all of it. But after... I thought it would be best if I didn't run into...the Captain."

 

Lana sighed. "What did that brother-in-law of mine do?"

 

"He," Shara hesitated and then continued. "He kissed me. I-in front of the crew. And I'd told him I wasn't free to... He knew I... have a husband. I suppose the crew didn't know about that but he did and..."

 

"Tell me about this husband of yours." Lana invited confidence. Shara could already tell she had found a friend the likes of which she had never imagined that she would find again after Melaana's death.

 

Shara looked down at her hands twisted in her lap and began. "His name is Sanjay Rash and there was once that I thought he loved me, and that I loved him."

 

She went on to tell Lana about how she had met Sanjay while delivering fruit to the Rash home, how the young man had seemed amazed that she took care of the transaction completely on her own from haggling with the cook over the price to unloading the merchandise. “If you think this is impressive you should see me ride a dalgos,” she had joked. But he said he'd like to and that he would find a way to do so.

 

They started seeing more and more of each other, and he opened up to her about his overbearing mother and all of the expectations of being the oldest son and child of a prominent family.

 

“He said he wished he could be free, like me, to do as he pleased. Well, I told him I was hardly free, but he didn't see it that way. And then after we'd been seeing each other for a while he said that if he was expected to produce an heir for the family he wanted it to be... with me.”

 

Shara looked up at the other woman who was still listening to her intently. Then looked away again and shrugged. “So we decided to try. I guess it should have been a red flag, the fact that he thought it would be better to introduce me to his mother after I was carrying his child. He was worried that she might not accept the daughter of a merchant but if she had a grandchild that would go a long way to smoothing the path.”

 

Tears filled Shara's eyes realizing just how wrong she had been. Lana put a comforting hand on her arm and though she didn't interrupt, her expression encouraged Shara to continue her story.

 

Shara smiled sadly. “And then he told me that his sister had met a Beast Rider also. I knew Bremon of course. He was an orphan, raised by all of the clans. He was like my brother. It was sweet to see them together at the Summer Fete. Anyone could see they belonged together but Melaana’s family had her betrothed to someone else. She couldn’t marry Brem unless there was a representative of the Rash family there as a witness.”

 

Shara’s eyes widened as she repeated the words. “She couldn’t marry Brem without a representative from the family as a witness!”

 

Lana’s brow creased inquisitively. “Go on.”

 

“Well,” Shara continued with more energy than she had thus possessed in her narrative. “Sanjay said that since we had someone right there who could officiate our vows we might as well go ahead. Mel needed an alibi for being away on her honeymoon anyway so it made sense that Sanjay and I could take some of the attention away from them.”

 

“So your marriage was a complete surprise to his whole family?” Lana asked.

 

“To my father as well.” Shara nodded. “At first the news seemed to go over rather well. I was welcomed into their home. There was talk of building on a new addition and when Melaana was away and married to her betrothed, her rooms would be turned into a nursery for the heir… when there was one. Mother Rash even bought a midwife droid to watch over me before and during my pregnancies.”

 

“Thoughtful.” Lana shook her head.

 

“Yes I- I felt like a prisoner. I was so _protected_ I couldn’t even get away to explain things to my father. Melaana helped or she tried to. She convinced them that I’d rather have a garden than a new wing of the house and I was able to go and visit my dalgos. And then Mel found out that she was expecting and that took a lot of pressure off Sanjay and I. That was the best time. When Melaana was happy everyone was happy.” She smiled and then sorrow filled her expression once again. “And then she was gone. She was in danger somehow, or the baby was. Something about Brem’s uncle and an old Sith Lord. Brem told her to go, to fly away from whatever it was and she… she crashed. The baby died with her.”

 

Lana hugged her new friend and let her cry.

 

“After that things were different.” Shara sniffed. “Mother Rash had lost her first chance at a grandchild and Brem’s uncle was so angry, he sort of cursed the family, said there would never be a Rash heir. I just saw my friend, my brother really, who had lost his wife and child, grieving and I wanted to be there for him.”

 

“They assumed you were attempting to get a child by someone else?”

 

Shara nodded and then sobbed before she burst out. “Sanjay called me a whore! I know it was just because of his mother. She’d poisoned him against me. He said we’d…try once more and then he could have the child tested to make sure it was really his.”

 

“He didn’t give you a choice in the matter.” It wasn’t a question. Shara knew the other woman had read between the lines that her husband had forced her.

 

Shara shook her head. “If there had been a child maybe it could have fixed things.”

 

“No,” Lana said gently. “You know it wouldn’t have. You were right to leave. It was not right what they did to you and it was not your fault.” She tipped up Shara’s face and made the younger girl look her in the eye. “Marlon and I had trouble conceiving, too, but it brought us together. It didn’t  drive us apart. It didn’t make us start second guessing our loyalty. It was our battle that we fought together and eventually we won.” She smiled. “We have a little girl.”

 

“Con-” Shara hiccuped. “Congratulations.”  

 

“We didn’t have the best start. It was an arranged marriage.”

 

“R-really?”

 

Lana smiled. “Can I tell you a story?”

 

Shara nodded.

 

“As soon as Jamos said your name was Rash, I knew who your husband was. I met him a long time ago.”

 

“You’re Lana Flint! Melaana said…”

 

Lana laughed, “I was. It’s Blackwell now and rightly so. But yes my birth house was Flint. I was only thirteen when my parents announced my betrothal to Marlon. I was devastated. I couldn’t imagine being bargained away to some boy I hardly knew. Anyway, the same night that our betrothal was to be announced the Hold was playing host to family from Iziz.”

 

“The Rash family.”

 

“That's right.” She told Shara about the grand banquet in the Great Hall. How her own family, the Flints, were given the table just to the right of the dias and the Rashes as esteemed guests were given the table to the left. “So there I was nervous and confused and angry at the unfairness of it all, trying not to make eye contact with Marlon at the head table. And there was this other boy sitting directly across from me, about my age.”

 

“He was 12,” Shara spoke up. “Melaana was 9. She told me.”

 

“He was tall for his age, and exotic, from the south, not like the northern boys, and he had that rebellious, brooding expression.”

 

“Yes, that sounds like Sanjay.” Shara almost smiled, remembering hearing Melaana tell part of the same story. Then seemingly out of nowhere she asked, “Jamos was there?”

 

“He was.” Lana tried to judge the question. “He says he doesn't remember the Rashes but I was sure he would at least remember Melaana. She convinced him to take her out to see the Brylks. I said they could use my boat. I was just trying to get away from Marlon. Sanjay decided to tag along also.” She sighed. “While the two of them were discussing the animals your husband and I were making elaborate plans to run away together. We were going to take my boat and he insisted that we sail someplace warm, with ripe fruit dropping right off the trees.”

 

Shara couldn't help it, she giggled. “That's Sanjay, alright.” And then she broke out sobbing once again. “Why did he have to turn out to be such a…” Here she uttered a word in Hutteese that would have shocked Lana had she not grown up around rough sailors herself. As it was, it made Lana quite sure that once this poor girl had been given some time to heal, she was going to fit in just fine in the North.

 

“I don't know.” Lana comforted her. “Probably mostly to do with his mother…”

 

“But Melaana was nothing like that. She was…”

 

“Your friend Melaana was trying her best not to turn into her mother but she was just as strong.”

 

Shara nodded. “Yes, you're right. Sanjay was always a weak momma's boy. I just chose not to see it.”

 

“It's why you came here, wasn't it?” Lana asked. “You knew they wouldn't follow you to Blackhold.”

 

“I had an idea they wouldn't want to come back here.”

 

“Smart. I doubt Mother Rash would ever want to set foot here again.”

 

“I never understood” Shara sniffed. “Why did she hate it so much? I would have thought if she knew Jamos was around Melaana's age…”

 

Lana laughed. “Aye, she may have liked that idea once but she was pretty disappointed by their vacation.”

 

“She wasn't hoping that you and Sanjay…”

 

“No. After they left, I did a little checking. Turns out Mother Rash was originally a Northern girl herself.”

 

Shara gasped.

 

“Sanda Kretash was her name. Her father was the second mate on a ship that belonged to House Harkon. They had plenty of credits to live comfortably but there was no chance of upward mobility in the society.”

 

“How did she get to Iziz, then?”

 

Lana laughed again. “She won a pageant.”

 

“What?” Shara asked amazed.

 

“Aye. She was Miss North Sea, if you can believe it. Won a trip down to the capital, got to wave in a parade, go to a ball, or something like that. I guess she determined never to leave the city. Won the heart of the heir of an up and coming house and broke all ties with her family up here.”

 

“Sanjay never mentioned…”

 

Lana shook her head, “I don't think she ever told them. Of course when the family came up here for their little holiday, she was hoping that somebody might recognize her and see how far she had risen but nobody did. We all thought they were just some random southern tourists.”

 

“Serves her right.” Shara mumbled.

 

“Sounds like she deserves a lot worse than just a social snub.”

 

“Yeah.” Shara agreed. “Yeah she does.”

 

Lana patted her arm and smiled. “Well, you don't have to go through this alone. House Blackwell is with you.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Shara may have shed more grateful tears but at that moment they heard a deep, panicked cry. “Jamos! What if you accidentally let her go?!”

 

Lana swore and was up and out of the room in a heartbeat. Shara was quick on her heels.

 

Jamos was by the rail, flying his niece precariously over the water.  "Then I'd dive in after her and catch her before she even hit the water. What kind of an uncle do you think I am?"

 

The baby was giggling in a high pitched shriek.

 

“Isn't that right, Chirn Bait?” He pulled the little girl close to his chest and cuddled her, before swinging her back out over the water again.

 

“Jamos Emoth Blackwell,” Lana bellowed. “Don't let me ever catch you doing that again!”

 

He looked sheepishly at her for a moment, holding his giggling niece more carefully. “I won't,” he said seriously and then with a grin and a loud whisper to the baby. “Let her catch me.” Then he noticed Shara standing behind his sister-in-law and his entire demeanor changed. Instantly he was the perfect, doting guardian, as if trying to prove to her what a conscientious father he would be someday.

 

Whatever she saw in him either before or after the about face, it seemed to have a great effect on her. Tears came to her eyes and all she could think was that if only she hadn't made the biggest mistake in recorded history, she could have had a man like that.

 

Lana went and took the baby from his arms while he continued to stare transfixed at Shara.

 

Marlon finally broke the silence. “So this must be the new beast master I've heard so much about.”

 

Shara blinked a few times and then turned toward the lord of Blackhold. She gave him a deep respectful curtsy and then rose saying, “My name is Shara Rupingwood. My family has been historically aligned to house Kira but today I pledge myself to House Blackwell.”

 

The lord’s eyebrows raised, impressed. Then he smiled. “I accept your pledge and offer all the hospitality and protection of our house.”

 

It all sounded very formal but the words were meant on both sides to convey respect and honor.

 

After a moment the big man bounded over to her in just few quick steps and wrapped her in a welcoming hug. “Come on, Shara. You're part of the family now.”

 

“Oh!” The action surprised her and she went stiff for a moment but then she relaxed and smiled shyly. “Thank you, my lord.”

 

“Now, none of that. It's Marlon.” He winked. “Come and meet my baby girl.” He was certainly proud of the infant.

 

Shara remembered holding Steela when she was that age. Now the Gerreras’ little girl would be almost a year old. “May I hold her?” She asked tentatively.

 

Lana nodded and passed the little girl on to her new friend.

 

“Hello.” Shara said brightly.

 

“Her name's Dalla.” Jamos said close beside her.

 

“Dalla.” She repeated glancing back over her shoulder at him before returning her attention to the baby.

 

“So you’ve decided to stay.” She didn't need to look at him to hear the smile in his voice.

 

“I guess I have.”

 

His brother and sister-in-law had moved a few steps away but he still lowered his voice. “Then you really should marry me.”

 

That got her flustered and she blushed. “You know I'm not free to…”

 

“Well if you were… when you are, I'll still be here asking.”

 

“Jamos, even if I was…”

 

“Say it again.” He grinned.

 

She looked back at him confused. “Say what?”

 

“My name. It's been nothing but _Captain_ for a week now. I was beginning to think you forgot.”

 

She raised an eyebrow but didn't rise to the bait. “If I was free, I still…” she frowned and turned her gaze to the baby for distraction from her pain. “I don't know how long it will be, if ever, till I can…”

 

He put a hand on her shoulder and addressed his niece in a cooing voice but his words were for Shara, “I'll still be here, won't I, Chirn Bait?”

 

A few steps away Lana whispered to her husband, “What happened to your married to the sea, never going to give up the bachelor life, little brother?”

 

“No idea.” Marlon put his arms around his wife while they watched the other couple. “I thought he was gonna leave the family thing to you and me.”

 

“Well one thing is for sure, we’re going to have to keep an eye on these two.” Lana leaned back against him.

 

“Why’s that? They look like they could get along pretty well on their own.”

 

She gave him a patient yet pitying look. “Her _husband_ has already accused her of infidelity. It wouldn’t do for her to turn up pregnant before her divorce is finalized.”

 

“True.” He nodded.

 

“You know though, there was something she said about her wedding.” Lana mused.

 

“Aye, what’s that?”

 

“They eloped, didn’t have any family witnesses.”

 

Marlon frowned. “Is that legal?”

 

“I don’t believe it is.”

 

* * *

 

It was the sound of the clinking chain as the anchor was being raised that alerted her. “I thought we were going ashore,” said Shara. She was still holding little Dalla and it surprised her that they would be going anywhere with a baby on board even if Lana hadn't just told her that they would get right to work settling whatever needed to be settled with Sanjay. Shara wanted that done with as soon as possible whether or not it meant starting anything with the man beside her now, who still couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.

 

Jamos looked over his shoulder and then right back at her again. “One more little journey before we go back to the Hold.”

 

“But you're the captain and I didn't hear you give the order.” She blushed under his gaze.

 

“I'm surrendering the wheel to my brother for this occasion.”

 

She gave him a questioning expression.

 

“It all for this little one actually.” Jamos touched his niece's hand and Dalla grasped his finger and pulled it into her mouth. He grinned. “It's a northern custom, probably not one you're familiar with.”

 

Lana joined them and reached out her hands to her daughter. “Today is the day Dalla will be baptized in the light of the salt gods.” She held the baby in one arm and with her free hand she pressed her thumb to her lips and then held up the same hand palm facing away from herself.

 

Jamos repeated the motion and then the words. “In the light of the salt gods.”

 

Shara was intrigued.

 

“Look there.” Marlon Blackwell called from the wheel. He no doubt knew his wife and brother would be explaining things to her even if he couldn't hear the whole conversation from where he stood. He pointed in the direction they were sailing and Shara looked but she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be seeing.

 

“The white formation standing at the edge of the land, it's the eldest of the salt gods. Well, we call it that. It's supposedly the first one discovered by our ancestor, Aloysius Blackwell.” Jamos told her.

 

“That's a salt god?” she asked trying not to sound disrespectful.

 

Lana filled in more of the tale. “Aloysius and his followers were traveling in a deep fog when the clouds broke and the sun shone down on the face of the salt god and there they found a place to settle and food and fresh water and everything they needed to survive.”

 

Jamos grinned. “Legend says it looked more like a face back then. The formations have eroded and redeposited so many times over the centuries, we really have no idea what they may have looked like originally.”

 

“Formations? There are more than just this one?” Shara asked. She was fascinated and a little humbled by the fact that the family was including her in such an important occasion.

 

“They're dotted all through the islands. But wherever a salt god was found we also found water to drink and … look at that.” Jamos's hand was on her shoulder again as he pointed out towards the base of the formation.

 

“The Brylks!” She realized. “The salt gods led your ancestors to the Brylks!”

 

“Aye. Or the Brylks led them to the salt gods there’s some debate on which came first.” He gazed into her eyes and after a moment she forced herself to look away.

 

Shara tried to focus on the sacred salt formation rather than the hand that remained on her shoulder, slid down to just above her elbow and then back again. “So, you still pay your respects to the salt gods for what they did for your ancestors?”

 

She jumped at the sound of the anchor being lowered once again and Marlon came to join them.

 

It was he who answered her question. “We also call on them occasionally in our hour of need.”

 

Lana raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Your hour of need? Is that what you’re calling it now?”

 

He laughed and grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. “Well, it worked didn’t it. They heard me. Gave us our baby girl.”

 

Shara blushed at the insinuation but Jamos just laughed as he took Dalla from her mother. “Please! Can’t you two restrain yourselves in front of my niece.”

 

As much as it embarrassed her, it was also bittersweet to see a couple who loved each other so much. It reminded her of Melaana and Bremon. Oh how they would have enjoyed celebrating their little girl, Shara’s niece… She noticed after a moment that they were all preparing to go out in the little ship’s boat that had taken her to her beast mastering duties. “I - I guess I’ll just wait here till you get back.”

 

“Don’t be daft. You’re coming with us.” Jamos held out his hand toward her to seat her in the boat next to Lana.

 

Shara hedged. “But I’m not … I’m not a member of the family. I’m not even from the north. I don’t know your ways.”

 

Lana patted the seat next to her. “There’s no better time to learn. You do want to learn, don’t you?”

 

She hesitated a moment and then glanced over at Jamos who still had his hand extended and looked back at her expectantly. She nodded and moved forward to sit next to Lana. The baby was placed in her arms once again while the boat was lowered. Then the two brothers rowed them out to the foot of the eldest salt god.

 

“You know,” Lana said. “We’ve never done this before either. I know the words that my mother said over my siblings and my aunts said over my cousins but Dalla is the first Blackwell baby of this generation.”

 

Marlon elbowed his brother. “Hopefully the first of many.”

 

Again Shara blushed when Jamos’s eyes locked with hers for a second before she looked back down at the baby she was holding. She shouldn't even be thinking such a thing. She was married and not to him. For two years she had tried unsuccessfully for a child. Even if… No, she wouldn't torture herself. She could not even entertain the idea of adding to the Blackwell family.

 

“She was the first Blackwell _girl_ in several generations.” Lana announced, drawing Shara out of her thoughts.

 

“Oh, really?”

 

Marlon laughed. “The midwife asked if we wanted to find out what we were going to have. Lana said we already knew.”

 

“Everyone bought us presents for a boy.” Lana smiled down at her daughter. “And we had the perfect name picked out: Thias Modon Blackwell.”

 

“Then Chirn Bait pops out.” Jamos grinned.

 

Marlon feinted hitting his brother with his oar. “Well, we weren’t going to name her that.”

 

“Well, you were no help,” said Lana. “Staring at her all starry eyed while I was frantically searching the holonet for a decent name so we could announce the delivery of the Blackwell heir.”

 

“I asked the midwife what her name was,” Marlon shrugged.

 

Lana rolled her eyes. “And then when you didn’t like _Niamh_ you asked her to spout out every other girl’s name she’d ever heard of.”

 

“I liked Niamh.” He argued back. “I just didn’t want my daughter to have to explain how pronounce it every time somebody saw it in print. Anyway, when she said she had a childhood friend called Dalla, I knew that was the one.”

 

It was Jamos that picked up the story from them. “So they send out the announcement and an hour later we get this comm from Grandmother Flint.” He cleared his throat and then went into a high pitched imitation of the old woman. “Of all the names in the universe, you picked the most common one? Do you know how many Dallas I have to keep track of now?”     

 

They all laughed and as they approached the foot of the salt formation Shara assumed she would hand Dalla back to one of her parents for the actual ceremony. Jamos, however took a stone bowl and reached out to fill it with water from the sea. She realized that she was as much a part of this as any of them. Jamos handed the bowl to Marlon and Marlon nodded to Lana.

 

Lana laid her hand on Dalla’s head and recited, “For this child I asked and she was given. Therefore I shall raise her in the light of the salt gods, with the help of these present.” Then she looked to Marlon who repeated, “In the light of the salt gods.” as he poured the water from the bowl over his daughter’s head being careful not to get it into her eyes.

 

“In the light of the salt gods.” Jamos also repeated, smiling down at the baby.

 

And then they all looked to Shara. “I don’t…” she began helplessly.

 

But Lana smiled at her. “With the help of these present, includes you.”

 

Shara looked around at each of them and then asked, “You mean I should say the words, as well?” She received smiles and nods. Then she looked down at Dalla and knew this child would change her life forever. “Alright. I hardly know what it means but…In the light of the salt gods.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you L.S. for allowing me to write Lana. You created her and I know how important she is in Dalla’s memory. It is an honor to give her life.
> 
> Also, coming soon to our forum will be a little extra information about the religion of the north. Drop by and say hello and L.S. and I will try to answer any questions you might have.


	7. Bannerman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By Lux's Sister.  
> again jumping forward in time to the aftermath of the news that Kason Blackwell has stowed away south and is now in the hands of King Rash.

To say Uncle Jamos and Aunt Shara don’t take the news well is to say Northern winters are just chilly. When Marlon and Dalla break the news to them, Jamos rises up and shouts so loud he shakes the Hold’s stone walls, and Dalla and Thias have to team up to block Aunt Shara from racing out of the great hall to Marlon’s office, where she planned to place a call of barely repeatable things to the royal palace. 

 

“Jamos, take a breath!” Marlon orders, struggling against his younger brother. 

 

“How can you say that?” Uncle Jamos roars. “If it was Thias in the palace, the navy would be halfway there.” 

 

Portia, Shara and Jamos’ norcog, woofs in distress. With Dalla and Thias blocking the door, Shara’s resorted to pacing around the room with her hands clutching her forehead and the giant cognine pads over to check on her.

 

Shara ignores Portia. “He stowed away with the general?” she asks and then turns to her second-born. “Emoth, why didn’t you tell me you’d contacted him?” 

 

“I didn’t know he was coming back to the Hold,” Emoth cries through his tears. “I just wanted to warn him in case someone found their ship.” 

 

Cade wraps his arms around his cousin. “You couldn’t know.” 

 

Dalla has a feeling her aunt would have said the same thing if she wasn’t so stressed. Any mother whose child is being held hostage would be terrified. For Aunt Shara, who knows exactly what Sanjay Rash is capable of, it must be a thousand times worse. 

 

“What did he want?” Jamos asks. “I’ll give it to him. He can’t harm my son!” 

 

“You know what he wants,” Marlon snaps. “And from what General Tandin told Dalla, he doesn’t want to harm Kason.” 

 

“You’d believe the man Rash sent north to kidnap Dalla?” 

 

“He’s an honorable man,” Shara weakly protests. 

 

“Even honorable men try to outwit their enemies,” Jamos insists. “How do we know this general isn’t stringing us along?” 

 

They don’t. All they have is Tandin’s word, but Dalla’s willing to take it. She’s heard enough fish stories to develop a reasonably good lie detector, and Tandin never made her suspicious. 

 

“This can be sorted out without giving in to Rash’s demands and forsaking our honor,” Marlon insists. “If we call upon our southern bannermen --.”

 

“House Bonteri died with Dane and Mina, and where are the Kiras? Sulking in the jungle for seventeen years?”

 

“Jamos!” Shara raps in defense of House Kira. 

 

Marlon’s unfazed. “Dane and Mina’s son is with the rebels. If we contact them, we can ask them to rescue Kason and the king at the same time.” 

 

“Lux Bonteri is a boy,” Jamos shakes with anger. “Why would the rebels help us? They don’t care about the matters of the north.” 

 

Dalla decides not to mention her father practically declared for the rebels in that holo-call with Rash. Instead she goes for the obvious answer. “If Rash marries me and gets his dowry, then he’ll use the navy to crush them. They’ll help just to preserve themselves.”

 

“And how would we contact them?” Jamos demands. 

 

Thias shuffles his feet and the attention in the room goes to him. 

 

“Thias?” Dalla prompts. “Do you know something?” 

 

“Remember when Lord and Senator Bonteri came to the Hold after Mom died?” 

 

She was thirteen and concussed, but she remembers. Senator Bonteri told Dalla to call her Mina and held her while Dane Bonteri set her nose. They were kind and gave hugs and read stories to her brothers and helped Aunt Shara tend to all of them. Dalla had never been so glad the Bonteris were their bannermen. “What about it?” 

 

“When Mina left, she gave me a present,” he admits. “And she put the family’s contact information in the package.” 

 

With luck like this they should all buy Galactic lottery tickets. “And you were planning on telling us  _ when?”  _

 

“Hey! I didn’t know it was this bad,” Thias protested. “I thought we were just going to punch Rash in the face and be done with it. I didn't know Kason was in the south.” 

 

“Where is it?” Dalla demands. 

 

“I have it.”

 

“Never mind that. How would we know it still works? Dane’s and Mina’s comlinks would be deactivated after their deaths.” Marlon points out. “I can't imagine they would have put Lux’s contact information down if he was thirteen at the time.” 

 

“Thias?” 

 

“Don't remember,” Thias shrugs. “Think there were three numbers, though.”

 

_ The third one has to be either Lux or a family line he’d have ahold of.  _ “Why don't we contact then now?” 

 

“We will,” Marlon looks first at Uncle Jamos, then at Aunt Shara, directing his words mostly to them. “But first we need to come up with a concrete strategy for what we’re going to give them in return. Carrying out Kason’s rescue will be extremely dangerous and they’ll need a sizable incentive. Not as large as the dowry Rash wants, but still large.” 

 

“How many ships?” Jamos asks. 

 

“I'll have to negotiate with the Bonteri boy.” 

 

“How long is that going to take?” Shara cries. “Marlon, the Separatists don’t have your honor. And Rash -- you know what his mother was. She’s poisoned him into doing her bidding from beyond the grave. They wouldn’t hesitate to do dishonorable things if it meant House Rash’s advancement.” 

 

“If Rash didn’t harm Kason after striking him in front of Count Dooku, then I think we’re safe.” 

 

That was before Marlon shot Rash’s demands down. There’s no use contacting General Tandin to tell him what happened; he has to know already. After this one of two things can happen: Rash can convince Dooku to help him lay siege to the Hold, or he can hurt Kason. Both options are awful, and she can’t let either one of them come to fruition. 

 

If Rash is foolish enough to personally come north, she’ll kill him. But if he hurts Kason…

 

Dalla snags the back of Thias’ shirt and backs out of the Great Hall while their father, aunt, and uncle are too busy arguing to notice. 

 

“Should I go get Cade and Emoth?” he asks. 

 

She shakes her head. “You said you have the Bonteris’ comm frequencies. Give them to me.” 

 

He raises an eyebrow. “What are you going to do with them? Contact Lux Bonteri without Father’s permission?” 

 

Dalla doesn’t answer. 

 

“Holy kriff, that  _ is  _ what you want to do!” Thias backpedals. “Are you insane? Father will feed you to Chirns!”

 

“Father doesn’t need to know,” she replies meanwhile resigning herself to a future as Chirn bait. “Just like Father doesn’t need to know about you and Grandmother Flint’s good china.” 

 

Thias goes pale remembering Grandmother Flint’s good china. 

 

She leans in. “Give me the flimsi, Thias.”

 

Thias’ hands goes to his pocket. “You want to call the Bonteris. Then what? You’re only in command of one ship.” 

“That’s one more than they have,” she points out. “And better weapons is the best deal they’re going to get anywhere.” 

 

“That’s your lying face,” Thias presses harder on the pocket. 

 

“I have a lying face?” she sputters. 

 

“Yeah, a really obvious one. How do you plan to get  _ Maiden’s Heel  _ to them and explain to Father why she’s gone?”  She decides not to answer that one, and Thias’ eyes grow even bigger. “By the salt gods, you’re going to  _ sail  _ her down?” 

 

“How else am I supposed to get a ship down south? Magic?”  

Thias backs away. “Did your crew agree to this?”

 

How was she supposed to assemble her crew when she and Father had gone straight from his office to the Great Hall? She thinks quickly. “My crew would sail to the edge of the world if I asked them. The only person I still need to get is my first mate.”

 

“And?”

 

“I'm asking him.” 

 

“Oh, nuh-uh,” Thias shakes his head wildly. “I'm Father’s first mate, not yours.” 

 

“There isn't a rule saying you can't be mine if my regular first mate isn't here. And you only have two months left before you go from Father’s first mate to mine. Think of it as a promotion. Anyway, it's not like you don't want to go south and save Kason.” 

 

No one could ever say Dalla didn't know her brother. Thias twitches at the accusation. 

 

“Comm number,” she orders and holds out her hand. 

 

But Lady Luck isn't on her side today. “I’ll give it to you when we’re on the way south,” Thias says and spins off the wall, setting his shoulders even with Dalla’s. “When are we going?” 

 

“Not for a while. General Tandin’s right; we’re safest in the north, but when the north isn’t safe anymore we’re going to have to leave fast. I don’t want to risk not having the comm numbers when we go.” She grabs his shoulder. “Which means I need them at a moment’s notice.” 

 

“And that means I’ll keep them with me all the time,” Thias says, walking off. “That way you don’t get any ideas about leaving without me.” 

 

While she watches him go off, Dalla considers that maybe she and Thias know each other just a little too well. 

 

…

 

There’s only one thing to do if Thias won’t give up the flimsi: try to find alternate comm numbers. The HoloNet directory yields one number listed under Bonteri, and when Dalla calls it pretending to be a holomarketer she finds it’s Mina Bonteri’s old work line at the Parliament. 

 

Fat lot of good a Parliament line is going to do her. Dalla begins an insipid spiel about the nearest brand-name product she sees (“Hi ma’am! I’m here to offer you an incredible opportunity with ThermaSox, a product which will  _ change your life!”)  _ and like she hoped the secretary hangs up on her. 

 

With that particular track covered, she leans back in her seat and casts her eyes to the ceiling. There has got to be some way to get her hands on the flimsi. Thias is awful about remembering to empty his pockets before putting dirty clothes in the laundry; the sheer amount of credits she’s reaped from doing that particular chore speaks to it. If she can get ahold of Thias’ laundry, the fact that it’s Cade’s week to do it notwithstanding, then she might find the numbers. 

 

Still, that’s  _ if  _ Thias leaves them in his pocket and  _ if  _ she manages to get ahold of the laundry before Cade, who also knows about their brother’s propensity to leave credits in his pockets. Those are too many contingencies for her taste. That leaves one option: stealing them. 

Maybe she can break into Thias’ room and swipe them while he’s sleeping. But because Thias can apparently read her like a book, he’ll probably lock his door with a chair or even sleep with the numbers in a pajama pocket. However flawed, it’s looking more and more like her only option until her father returns to his office. 

 

Marlon sighs. “You realize this isn’t your office yet.” 

 

And she hopes it won’t be for a good long time. “I do.”

 

“You seem pretty intent on taking it over,” he jerks his head and Dalla climbs out of his chair. Marlon takes her place.

 

“How are Uncle Jamos and Aunt Shara?” 

 

“As well as you’d expect,” he says. “Emoth is spending the night in Cade’s room and your aunt and uncle went back to theirs for a while. I asked Thias to watch their ships in case Jamos gets any ideas.” 

 

“And what about the rest of us? What are we doing to do about it?” 

 

Marlon turns on his holoprojector. “How many houses have you contacted?” 

 

“Harkon and Flint so far, but only Harkon replied when I last checked.”

 

“Help me with the others. If we have to take down Sanjay Rash, we’ll need the entire North’s might to do it.” 

 

“Yes, Father.” She pulls up the directory of comm numbers and divides it in half, taking one list for herself and leaving one for her father. “Do you want me to take the Bralykburns?”

 

“The situation’s too tenuous. Leave them for me.” The holoprojector beeps to signal an incoming transmission. “Dalla, who is it?”

 

“House Harkon.” 

 

“Put them through,” Marlon orders and Dalla does. The tall, sturdy figure of the House’s head pops up. “Glover, it’s Marlon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

_ “Marlon,”  _ Lord Glover Harkon exudes terror.  _ “I know you have issues of your own, but House Harkon has an emergency on its hands.”  _

 

“What is it?” Marlon sits on the edge of his seat. The Harkons are the Blackwells’ oldest and most loyal bannermen, and Glover Harkon is one of his closest friends. 

 

_ “Miranda put into harbor at Blackhold last night,”  _ Glover explains.  _ “She and her crew went down the gangplank for their night off and this morning no one could find her.”  _

 

Marlon turns his attention to Dalla. “Have you seen Miranda?” 

 

Dalla shakes her head. “I didn’t even know she was at the Hold.”  If that isn’t abnormal she doesn’t know what is. She and Miranda Harkon are best friends. They’ve known each other since they were babies and religiously meet up whenever they’re in the same place. 

 

If holograms showed color, Glover’s face would be pale as slush.  _ “The first mate says the ship is still in harbor and the rest of her crew is accounted for. The crew’s retraced their steps half a hundred times. She’s just vanished!”  _

 

“You did right contacting us. We’ll search the Hold and the surrounding waters. Is it possible someone on your end knows where she might be?” 

 

Lord Harkon shakes his head.  _ “I thought Dalla might, but she clearly doesn’t.”  _ He wrings his hands.  _ “Marlon, my wife is frantic. The twins are frantic.  _ I’m  _ frantic. I’m coming over to search as soon as possible but it will take time and even if it’s summer, if she’s in the water…”  _

 

“I’ll send the search parties immediately,” Marlon promises and shuts off the hologram. “Dalla, change of plans. Send out a missing person’s alert for Miranda to every vessel in the harbor. Then go with your brother and take  _ Maiden’s Heel  _ to search south. Stay in a ten-klik radius of the Hold at all times.” 

 

Dalla already has half of the alert composed and finds a still of Miranda to attach to it. “Right away, Father.”  

 

Marlon races from his office and Dalla sends a quick message to Thias on her comlink while she sends out the alert. 

 

HARBOR NOW. MIRANDA SOS. That’ll get him to sit up and pay attention. 

 

...

 

Thias and her crew beat her to the harbor. By the time she sends the alert and runs up the gangplank Thias is already yanking up the anchor and ordering all hands on deck. Dalla shoots him a look to reassert just who’s the captain, though she’s grateful for the all hands. It’s one less thing she has to shout. 

 

“This is a search mission,” she announces. “We’re looking for Miranda Harkon, sixteen years old, with curly brown hair and blue eyes.” Miranda’s a classic Northern beauty, the pride of House Harkon. She's been pretty ever since she was a baby. 

 

When they hear Miranda’s name a murmur goes up among the crew and they glance to Thias. Another glare from Dalla stops the whispering cold. Yes, she knows about Thias’ and Miranda’s  _ friendship,  _ and that her brother asked their father to approach the Harkons about permission to see Miranda sometimes, but this isn't the time for bawdy jokes about how Harkon pink and Blackwell blue could only bode a fruitful marriage. 

 

“Miranda Harkon has been missing since this morning. Let’s find her before night falls,” she shouts and takes her position at the wheel. The crew rushes to theirs and once she's done talking to the navigator she turns to Thias. 

 

“You got here fast.” 

 

“Miranda’s been gone since this morning?” He asks. 

 

“Crew couldn't find her after their night off. Glover’s worried she took a skiff or something and wrecked.” She certainly hopes she's wrong. If Miranda’s been in the water since last night, her odds aren't looking good. “Were there any places you two went together that she liked? Or somewhere she wanted to go?” 

 

Thias turns scarlet. “No!” 

 

“Look, forget propriety,” she whispers. “If there's a place, I need to know. I won't tell Father; I’ll just say we got lucky.”

 

“There isn't!”

 

Dalla raises her hands in surrender. “Just had to be sure.” 

 

Their prow slices through the waves as they leave the harbor, and each crewman who would normally prepare nets and bait stands along the rail, eyes cast on the sea below. Dalla scans the waves from the wheel until her eyes go glassy while the Brylks churn the water.

 

_ Harkon pink will stand out against the water,  _ she reminds herself.  _ Miranda loves wearing her house colors.  _

 

Minutes, hours later her comlink buzzes and she answers. “Hello?”

 

_ “Dalla, return to the Hold immediately,”  _ her father orders.

 

She can't help herself. “Did you find Miranda?” 

 

Marlon sighs.  _ “Your aunt’s Brylks picked up a scent trail and we followed them. They were circling her when we arrived.” _

 

That doesn't sound good, but she still asks the question to cling to her last shred of hope. “Circling her?”

 

_ “We found her body.” _

 

Dalla checks over her shoulder to make sure Thias couldn't have heard that. “M-may the salt gods have mercy,” she stammers. This isn’t happening. There’s no way this is happening; Miranda’s got to be back on the docks at Blackhold embarrassed about all the fuss over her, she can’t be dead. 

 

But Marlon doesn't return the benediction.  _ “You need to return to the harbor, then take Thias, return home, and lock the doors. Do not stop anywhere. Do not speak to anyone. Go straight home and lock yourselves in my office.”  _

 

That doesn't sound like Marlon at all. “Father?” She asks, worry creasing her brow. “What’s wrong?” 

 

_ “Miranda didn't die in the water,”  _ Marlon says.  _ “She was shot and thrown in.”  _

 

“Someone killed her?!” Dear salt gods, why would someone want to kill Miranda?  _ “Who?  _ Everyone loves Miranda!” 

 

_ “Our navigator says if she's been in the water as long as we think she has, she was on a craft heading south.”  _

 

Dalla feels sick to her stomach. There’s no way it's a coincidence this happened right after Tandin returned without her. 

 

_ “Dalla, listen to me. Is there anyone in your crew you don’t recognize?”  _

 

She looks around her with blood thundering in her ears. “No.” 

 

_ “Look again. Anyone -- a deck hand, a rower,  _ anyone  _ you don’t know?”  _

 

“I’m positive. There’s no one.” 

 

Marlon breathes a sigh of relief.  _ “Thank gods. I was worried they might have found you already.” _

 

Although every bit of her screams to ask who “they,” are, she bites her tongue. “Nobody’s here, Father. We’re turning around now,” she says and shuts off the comlink. “The search is over. Return to harbor!” 

 

Thias perks up. “Did they find her?” 

 

Dalla swallows her own grief in a hard lump. She quickly signals the first mate to take over command. “Thias, I need to talk to you in my cabin.” 

 

“Why? If they found her, then --.”

 

“It's complicated,” she says even though it isn't. “Now we’re going to my cabin. Come on.”

 

Thias stops cold. “She's alive, right?” 

 

It looks like they’re not getting their privacy after all. “Thias, I’m sorry.” 

 

His Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. “D-did she drown?” he coughs. “What happened to her?” 

 

_ Murder.  _ The word is thick and heavy on her tongue, and there’s no way in the nine Corellian hells she’s going to say it in front of her crew. 

 

“I’ll tell you once we get back to the Hold,” she says. “Until then, stay with me. As soon as we dock, we’re going home.”

 

…

 

Nobody bothers them on their way home, but that might be because Thias looks like he's about to start sobbing while Dalla projects the not-to-be-trifled-with Northern woman air that hardened sailors run from in fear. Once they arrive home and lock themselves in, she takes a few seconds to grab Cade and their cousins before going to Marlon’s office and locking the door. 

 

Marlon and Jamos come in a while later looking like they just went through a cyclone. 

 

“What are we doing in here?” Thias demands. “What does this have to do with Miranda?” 

 

Jamos quickly counts Emoth, Cornel, Arkon, and little Lana. “Kids, come with me. Your mother and I need to tell you something.” 

 

“Thias, sit down.” Marlon gestures to one of the office chairs.

 

“Why? Why would I need to --?”

 

Jamos shuts the door behind him and Marlon takes a seat, hoping Thias will follow his example. “We found your friend Miranda’s body twenty-five miles southeast of the Hold. She had been shot in the head execution style and thrown into the water.” 

 

Dalla kicks a chair under Thias just in time for him to sit down hard. 

 

“Shot?” Thias repeats. “Someone shot her? I-I don't understand, nobody would want to kill Miranda. She was nice to everyone.” 

 

“We believe the people who killed her were targeting someone else. When they realized Miranda wasn't the target, they killed her to cover their tracks.” 

 

Marlon’s gaze settles on Dalla. 

 

Thias doesn't miss it. “They couldn't!”

 

“General Tandin claims Rash didn't give him any images of Dalla, only a rough physical description. Under those conditions, we can infer this was a case of mistaken identity gone hovertram-wreck wrong.” 

 

Dalla seriously considers grabbing a waste receptacle in case she or Thias needs to get sick. 

 

“Who did it?” Thias shouts. “Tell me who did it and I'll kill them. I'll kill them! She didn't deserve to die like that!” 

 

“The best thing you can do for Miranda right now is keep a level head,” Marlon declares. “We cannot afford a reckless revenge quest during the middle of a civil war. Take Cade, go back to your quarters and cool down. I need to speak with your sister in private.” 

 

With a huff, Thias rushes out of the room with Cade on his heels. 

 

“He's still planning revenge,” she remarks. 

 

“Dalla, you need to leave.” 

 

If that didn't come out of the clear blue sky, she doesn't know what else could. “What?” 

 

“After we found Miranda’s body, I contacted General Tandin,” he explains. “He doesn't know who this was, but he agreed the execution method suggests they’re royal agents. Since they don't have you, they're probably still in the Hold.”

 

“Wouldn’t they be in the docking registration?”

 

“We checked it. The Harkons are here and so is House Kretash, the clan Sanjay Rash’s mother originally hailed from. And before you ask, they didn't arrive in the harbor until after Miranda went missing and they were among the first to join the search teams. Considering current events, I'd say they want to prove their loyalty. But the point is that right now, the killers are in the wind.”

 

“If they’re out there, then isn't it best for me to stay here?” 

 

“I've seen this before. They’re planning to pinch us,” Marlon says. “The safest place for you and for the north at large is for you to be away while the rest of us pretend you’re still here and thus string them along. You need to leave tonight. Take someone else’s boat; fly a different banner. And I don’t want to know where you’re going.” 

 

“I need to --.” 

 

“Tonight,” he orders in the voice he uses on the decks of the  _ Queen Lana.  _ “Do whatever you need to do as long as it won’t tip anyone off, but leave tonight.” 

 

Dalla takes a deep breath. 

 

“I just have to get something from Thias and then I’ll be gone. Two hours, maximum.” 

 

“Don’t tell me any more,” Marlon warns. “All I want to know is that when I wake up tomorrow, you’ll be gone. If anyone asks I’ll tell them you’re sick in bed.” 

 

It’s going to eat him alive not knowing where she is. The only thing that could be worse is if he accidentally did something to set Rash on her trail.

 

“Aye, Father,” she says and swallows the lump in her throat. “Are you sure everything will be okay up here?” 

 

Marlon crushes her in a hug, and from the way his chest shakes Dalla realizes that for the first time in four years, her father’s in danger of crying. 

 

“Father?” 

 

“I’ll manage,” he forces out and squeezes her hard. “I’ve been Lord of the north for a long time. I’m sure I can handle a few weeks without my daughter.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you (from Lux's Sister) to everyone for reading and reviewing the last chapter, and I’d also like to extend a big (overdue) thank you to DuchessKenobi for allowing me to throw Shara and her children into this mess. Their presence in the Blackwell clan is invaluable, and I’m grateful you let me bring them here.


	8. A Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shara has an unpleasant task ahead of her but she thinks that's all it is until she gets some even more distressing news. 
> 
> and Jamos tries to think of a way to make it better for her.

Jamos had offered to stay with her while she made the comm. Marlon and Lana had vetoed that immediately. Marlon had also offered to stand with her as her new Liege Lord. But Lana had advised against that as well. She suspected, and Shara grudgingly agreed with her, that any male presence might be misconstrued under the current circumstances.

 

So here she stood, in the Blackhold communications room, with Lana a few steps behind her, trying to work up the courage to activate the comm.

 

“I'll be right here the whole time.” Lana encouraged. “You know what you need to say and the sooner you get it over with, the better.”

 

“I know.” Shara closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again and leaned forward to press the activation key.

 

She managed to stand tall and proud as Sanjay's image crackled to life above the holo table. At least she hoped that's how she appeared. Inside she was trembling.  As she looked at him however she was sure she couldn't look any more frazzled than he did.

 

“Shara! Where are you? Where have you been? I've been worried sick!” There was something of the old Sanjay there, the one who she was sure had been in love with her, the one she had fallen in love with. She faltered and glanced back over her shoulder at Lana for support.

 

Lana nodded and urged her on.

 

“I'm at Blackhold, Sanjay.” She answered simply.

 

“Blackhold?” His expression was a mixture of hurt and anger and confusion. “We searched Kira’s for you, and questioned the Gerreras…”

 

That was it, the suspicion of her friends. That was the reason she was doing this but he was still speaking.

 

“Never dreamed you'd go as far as… Your father… but then you wouldn't know…”

 

“What about my father?” Suddenly worried, she took a step forward demanding an answer. Nothing else mattered if he father was ill or hurt in some way.

 

“Shara, he’s… there was an accident. But no one knew where you'd gone. No one could contact you.”

 

“What happened to my father?” She repeated frantically.

 

Lana stepped up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder for support.

 

Sanjay glanced at the other woman as she entered the holo field but quickly focused again on Shara.

 

“The repulsor-truck malfunctioned. It crushed him against a wall. The internal damage is too much for the doctors to…”

 

“Is he already…” she asked, tears beginning to blur her vision.

 

“He’s hanging on. Though not for much longer. You should come quickly.”

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

Lana squeezed her shoulder and whispered, “Marlon and I will make the arrangements. You don't have to worry about a thing.” She started to leave but then Sanjay seemed to recognize her.

 

“Lana? Lana Flint?”

 

“It's Blackwell now.” She gave him a hard look before she left the comm room.

 

Shara was left, for all intents and purposes, alone with her husband.

 

“Blackhold? You went all the way to Blackhold?”

 

Shara sniffed and wiped her eyes. “After what Mel said I didn't think you'd come here to look for me.”

 

His expression darkened at the mention of his sister. “You wanted that badly to be away from me?”

 

“What do you think, Sanjay? After what you did, after what you called me? I want... a divorce!” There. She'd said the words, but it didn't make her feel any better.

 

“You want… but what about? What if?”

 

“I'm not carrying your child, Sanjay.”

 

“And no other man’s?” He inquired, cruelly.

 

“You were my first and have always been my only, but you treat me like … like that's the only thing I'm good for! Like that is the only reason I might have speaking to or even looking at another man! I can't live like that!”

 

He hung his head for a moment and she hoped the words had stung him.

 

“We'll talk about it, Shara. When you arrive. We'll work this out.” He deactivated the comm before she could reply. Of course he had to have the last word.

 

As soon as his image faded from the holo table, Jamos burst into the room. He hugged her before she could object. “Shara, I'm so sorry about your father. My brother is preparing his fastest ship to sail us to Iziz.”

 

She couldn't push him away, even though she was sure she should. She clenched her fists in the fabric of his coat and laid her head on his chest. “What if I'm too late? When we last spoke, we argued. I don't want the last words I ever said to him to be…” She sobbed.

 

“Don't worry, Shara.” He whispered. “We’ll get you to him. I promise.”

 

“I never should have come here. I should have been with him.”

 

“It was an accident.” He held her a little tighter. “Staying with Rash would have done nothing to change that. You were right to get away from him and I'm sure your father knows that. You'll get a chance to tell him.”

 

“Father never liked Sanjay. Sanjay never even asked him for my hand.”

 

“Shara…” Jamos had so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to promise her.

 

She looked up at him and all other thoughts flew from his mind. Slowly, tentatively he bowed his head towards her. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips parted. Their faces were mere centimeters apart when the door burst open again and Shara spun away and steadied herself with both hands on the holotable.

 

Lana looked back and forth between the two but she didn't question.

 

“I was just telling Shara that we are going to get her to her father.” Jamos explained.

 

“You won't. You'll be staying here with Dalla.” Lana went to Shara and put a hand on her shoulder.

 

Shara threw a frantic look back at Jamos.

 

He started to protest. “Lana? Babysitting? Don't you think I could…”

 

“You don't think protecting your niece while Marlon and I are away is important?” She countered.

 

“Of course I do but couldn't we all go? Bring her with us?”

 

Lana was surely building up steam to inform her brother-in-law of exactly why that would be a bad idea but she was saved the trouble.

 

Shara spoke softly not even looking at Jamos. “I'll see you when I get back.” And there it was. After this trip she would truly have nothing else tying her to Iziz. She had pledged herself to the Blackwells and the north. She would be coming home.

 

Jamos nodded. “Alright.” He reached forward, took one of Shara's hands in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Then he left the women alone.

 

Lana shook her head. “I have never in my life seen that man back down from anything so quickly.”

 

Shara's eyes were fixed on the direction he had taken. “You were right though. He shouldn't come.”

 

“We'll be ready to leave within the hour.” Lana told her. “And I've packed my… mourning dresses. You and I are about the same size so if you've need of…”

 

“Thank you, for everything.”

 

...

               

Jamos was ready to tear stone from stone and his brother's ship had only been gone for two hours. Dalla was sleeping peacefully and there was nothing else he could do but wait and pray to the salt gods that this whole matter would be done with soon.

 

If he hadn't been anchored with his niece, he would certainly have gathered the Polaris' crew and made his own way down to Iziz. He wanted to tear Rash's throat out with his bare hands. He lost more respect for the whelp every time Shara mentioned another of his deeds. Not that Jamos had any respect for him in the first place.

 

What was it she'd just said in the comm room? That he hadn't even asked her father for her hand. The Rashes had truly stolen her away from her family. And then what? Tried to buy the man off with a repulsor-truck of all things? Jamos wondered if the 'malfunction' had really been an accident. And now Shara's father was lying in the med center being kept alive by machines on Rash credits most likely.

 

He would see about that. Jamos rushed to the communications room. He would comm Marlon, ask him to check out what the arrangements were and ... And then it dawned on Jamos. Shara's father was alive but maybe for not much longer. There was something else he could do for her.

 

He activated a comm to the Med Center. "I would like to speak to a patient. Mr. Kason Rupingwood."

 

"Mr. Rupingwood is in intensive care. I can't just..." the nurse started to protest.

 

"Please." Jamos insisted. "I'm comming to tell him that his daughter is on her way and to hang on. I would very much like to speak to him personally."

 

The nurse looked out of the field of the holo as if to check if anyone was watching and then returned her gaze to the caller. "Well, alright. Give me a moment."

 

Jamos paced back and forth before the holo table preparing himself to meet the man and say what he had in his heart to say.

 

After a few minutes a new image was projected, a man lying in bed with some sort of machine arched over his chest. Jamos could only guess that the device was breathing for Shara's father and perhaps doing various other jobs just to keep his body functioning.

 

Jamos heard the nurse's voice. "Mr. Rupingwood, someone requested that they speak with you."

 

"What? What's going on?" he turned his head slightly and attempted to focus on the caller. "Who are you?"

 

Jamos bowed. "Mr. Rupingwood, my name is Jamos Blackwell. I..." he stammered. "I'd like to marry your daughter."

 

The man's eyebrows pressed together. "You must be mistaken. My daughter is already married to that..."

 

"It's not a mistake, Sir. I've commed to tell you that Shara is on her way there to see you and that hopefully while she's there she'll be able to tell that mother kriffing, son of a Hutt exactly where he can shove his..." Jamos was fully prepared to go on at great length about what Sanjay could shove and where he could shove it when he noticed that the man's expression had changed.

 

Shara's father was laughing, which then turned into a wracking cough, and great salt gods, Jamos was sure he'd killed him! But gradually the coughing subsided and the machine whirred bringing Mr. Rupingwood's breathing back to normal.

 

"That, my young man, was the best description of my so called son-in-law that I've ever heard. I like you Mr. Blackwell." He smiled. "So you wish my Shara to marry you instead?"

 

"Well, yes I..." Jamos began but then he heard a noise. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment, Sir."

 

He dashed from the communications room and lifted the crying Dalla from her crib. "You'd better have a very good reason for taking me away from a conference with my future father-in-law, Chirn Bait."

 

The baby grinned toothlessly at him. Obviously she only wanted the reassurance that she wasn't alone with her mother being so far away.

 

"Come on then." He carried her back to the holotable.

 

Mr. Rupingwood frowned when the holo image returned. "You want my Shara to be mother for your child there?"

 

"No! Nothing like that." Jamos hurried to explain. "This is my niece, Dalla, my brother's daughter. Sir, I'm a... I'm a second son. I'm not in any hurry to ... you see I don't really need an heir." He glanced over at Dalla and smiled. "Of course if Shara wanted... I only want to make her happy. I would be more than glad to give her a child or a dozen of them. Even if we couldn't, I'm sure there are plenty who need parents to love and care for them. If... if that's what she wanted."

 

Her father did his best to nod, coughed, and then considered. "Blackwell? That's way up north on the sea. Shara likes her animals. You got a place for her pets up thereabouts?"

 

"I fear it's a little too cold for Sophia and the foal, but she's already made friends with the Brylks and I was thinking of giving her a gift, something a little more cuddly."

 

Mr. Rupingwood looked impressed that the young man had not only put some thought into his daughter's interests but also knew the name of her dalgos.

 

"Oh!" said Jamos suddenly. "I can show you!" He juggled Dalla from one arm to the other and pulled a small holodisk from his pocket. Then he plugged it into the holotable.

 

"Shara's not just been hiding away at the Hold. She's perfectly capable of earning her keep. She's... well, she's amazing, Sir." He activated the recording and knew that the image that replaced his own on her father's end of the connection was the event of Shara's first catch as beast master of the ship Polaris.

 

"That's my girl." Mr. Rupingwood's voice shook as tears ran down his cheeks. When he looked into Jamos's eyes again, there was pride in his expression and gratitude. "So you don't just offer her your house and your heart. You'll give her a purpose, a chance to use her skills."

 

"That's right, Sir. Shara should have never been locked up in a house in a city! It's preposterous!"

 

"And how does she feel about you, young man, Mr. Jamos Blackwell?" The man asked. It sounded too good to be true for his daughter to have found such a match but it was her opinion that really mattered.

 

A sheepish grin pasted itself on Jamos's face. "I have reason to believe that she likes me well enough." Then he sobered a bit. "She wouldn't act on anything while she's still legally tied to the Hutt spawn. But when she's free of him and when she's ready... I won't push her into anything. I won't force her, Sir. I want to court her properly. My brother and sister-in-law have already insisted on acting as chaperons."

 

Mr. Rupingwood was silent for some seconds, seeming to enjoy keeping Jamos waiting. Then he smiled. "I give you my permission, Mr. Blackwell, and my blessing."

 

"Oh, thank you, Sir!" Jamos burst out. He grinned at Dalla and gave her a bounce, which made the baby giggle.

 

"Even if I don't live to see it. Just knowing ... You've made me a happy man."


	9. Call the Banners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L.S. takes us on journey down the river to Iziz. Dalla meets some old family allies.

Dalla’s heart rate doesn’t slow down until she's on the open water in a “borrowed” sailboat, far past the place where royal agents realized they had the wrong girl and forced Miranda Harkon to her knees. 

 

As that realization as well as the sick feeling over Miranda’s death sinks in, Dalla comforts herself with a few basic facts. 

 

One: This sailboat belongs to her family’s fishing industry, meaning she technically didn’t steal it. 

 

Two: As she is half Flint, it is also technically not illegal for her to fly Flint banners. And as House Flint is enormous and has a southern presence, it won’t raise alarms if someone sees it. 

 

The only thing she did steal was Thias’ flimsi, and that was almost too easy to call stealing. Her brother had been so upset that when Dalla walked into his room supposedly to say a few condolences, he didn’t stop staring at the gray-green sea that will soon become Miranda’s grave if it hasn’t already. The north gives their dead back to the salt gods. 

 

Over the feeble condolences said past the lump in her throat, Dalla grabbed the folded bit of flimsi out of the jerkin Thias had thrown onto the back of a chair and slipped out of the Hold. It killed her not to hug Cade or kiss little Lana’s forehead or tell Thias she was going to find the people who did this to Miranda and make them pay. But her father’s right: the less others know about this, the safer all of them will be. 

 

She takes out her comlink and uses the screen as a glowlamp to read the flimsi. 

 

_ If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. -- Mina and Dane _

 

The first two numbers are listed under Dane’s and Mina’s first names, so she nixes them. The last one, though, is labeled “Lux.”

 

She punches this one into her comlink and crosses her fingers while it connects. 

 

The rings go on for what seems like hours, and Dalla’s sure the frequency’s been reassigned or disconnected or Lux just plain won't answer when the line crackles to life.  _ “Identify yourself,”  _ a male voice raps out. 

 

That doesn't sound promising. “Is this Lux Bonteri?”

 

There's something that sounds like two men arguing on the other side of the line, then a clambering sound and the same male voice repeats  _ “Identify yourself!” _

 

The voice doesn't sound like she remembers the Bonteris’: Dane with his gentle orders and Mina with her songs. But she has a feeling this speaker isn't like to give third chances. 

 

“My name is Dalla Blackwell,” she swallows. “If Lux Bonteri is there or he can hear me, I am invoking the banner oath our houses swore.” 

 

The silence is deafening. 

 

“I don't know if you have access to the HoloNet news or if you’ve heard somewhere else, but earlier this morning King Rash contacted my family with news that he has my cousin Kason as his prisoner.” she swallows hard. “In exchange for Kason’s safe return, he orders that my father consent to a marriage alliance between him and myself. I’m … significantly younger than Sanjay Rash, and I know he doesn’t want me for any good reason and I wouldn’t be safe in this arrangement. My father considers the marriage a slight to northern honor and refused the deal, but if Rash isn’t listening to us. If he has Kason he also has my family over a barrel and it's only a matter of time before he gets his way, with my father’s consent or without.”

 

No one speaks into the line, but no one yells at her either and Dalla takes that as a good sign. “I ask only for refuge from this contract and Rash’s men.  _ Please _ . He’s old enough to be my father. He’s already sent kidnappers after me when we refused to comply and it's by dumb luck we evaded them. Said kidnappers killed a girl when they accidentally took her in my place and House Blackwell won't sacrifice any more young lives for this. House Bonteri has been a great friend to us, and I’m willing to help you and your cause in any way I can, be it through my own efforts or that of the --.”

 

_ “I recognize the banner oath.”  _

 

She inflates with hope.

 

_ “As the last member of House Bonteri, I realize the long-standing friendship between our families,”  _ This voice is new, gentler than the one who demanded identification. He sounds like the man who told her she was brave while he pushed her nose back into place.  _ “And unlike the Rashes, we aren't in the business of ending friendships.”  _

 

Dalla could weep with joy. “Lux Bonteri?”

 

_ “Dalla Blackwell,”  _ Lux replies.  _ “I don't believe we’ve met.” _

 

“We haven't. I just wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” 

 

_ “Is this connection secure?”  _

 

“To the best of my knowledge.” She never was a tech whiz. She’ll have to pick up an unregistered comlink once she gets to shore, but right now this is her best bet. 

 

The “identify yourself” voice speaks up.  _ “Looks fine.”  _

 

_ “Good. Dalla, where are you?” _

 

“On the water.” That's a vague enough answer. 

 

_ “Traveling south?”  _ Lux doesn't wait for an answer.  _ “Is your vessel equipped with any locator or homing beacon?” _

 

“No.” And she checked the hold for a brother or cousin or anyone else who thought stowing away was a bright idea. 

 

The argument on the other side of the line reignites. Something about honor. Something about thinking carefully. Something about too big a risk. A female voice yells  _ “what else are we supposed to do, Saw? Send her a wedding present?”  _

 

_ “We supposed to sign our death warrants instead, Steela?” _

 

It probably isn't a good idea but Dalla speaks up anyway. “Rash is demanding my father's navy as a dowry. If he gets it, he’ll have the hundreds of ships in the northern fleet. All of them are filled with fighting men. Between all the northern houses, there are enough to overwhelm the entire city of Iziz.” 

 

_ “The north hates the Rashes. They won't work for them.” _

 

“They will if Rash has me.” It's a certainty. The north fears the crown, but they love the Blackwells. If it means protecting Dalla they -- and Marlon -- will do anything. 

 

There's a rustling like someone’s covering the comlink receiver with their hand, but all it does is garble the words a little. 

 

_ “You need to think carefully about this.”  _ This voice sounds like an older man. 

 

_ “There's nothing to consider.”  _ Lux snaps. _ “Marlon Blackwell protected my family’s assets after my parents died. I'm honor-bound to help his family when they so clearly need it.” _

 

_ “Or we’re talking to Rash’s queen! She could be a spy for the Separatists.” _

 

_ “She clearly doesn't want to be his queen. How old is this girl, sixteen? Seventeen?”  _ the woman asks.  _ “That's just creepy.”  _

 

_ “You're going to judge her by a creepy marriage deal? Creep aside, she has a ton to gain from a royal marriage.” _

 

_ “Saw, you just don't get women,”  _ the woman snaps. 

 

_ “And you’ve been outvoted.”  _ The muffling object disappears and she no longer has to strain to hear.  _ “Dalla, set a course for the Iziz port but don't actually enter. Stop a few kliks before you enter the city and follow the directions I'll transmit in a moment.” _

 

Dalla tries not to breathe an enormous sigh of relief. “Thank you, Lux. If I can do anything to help you or your friends, please just say the word.” 

 

_ “Oh trust me, we will,”  _ Saw growls. 

 

…

 

With the strong summer winds it takes three days to get to Iziz. Three days of looking over her shoulder certain royal agents are on her tail. Three days of popping caf tablets so she can stay awake and stay on course. Three days of nervously watching the sky, swearing a storm was blowing in before remembering that in the south the warmth is normal. Three days of stewing over her father, her brothers, her aunt and uncle and cousins, and what Rash will do when he finds out she’s disappeared. 

 

When she can see the towers of Iziz looming in the distance, she directs her boat to one of the tributaries, the one leading along a ruined ranch house on a high bank. Thank the gods, it looks empty except for a ruping flying around and landing in a paddock. For a second the beast looks like the sigil of House Kira, the lords of the Beast Riders and her family’s semi-rivals. She’s not about to bank on assistance from Lord Bremon Kira; from what Jamos said in the great hall she could run to him screaming bloody murder while Sanjay Rash chased her with the betrothal necklace in hand, and he’d just watch from the back of his ruping. 

 

Better for no one to know she’s northern at all. She's been wary of the Flint banners since she reached the mouth of the river; if Tandin’s plain sails were any indication it's not uncommon to go bannerless, but she did see a few crafts flying Flint. Better safe than sorry, and if someone asks about them she’ll say she’s part of the mammoth clan’s southern branch. That shouldn’t give anyone cause for pause.  

 

If this is the tributary Lux directed her to, the one which winds near one of the city’s lesser gates, then she should find a smaller marina which largely caters to pleasure crafts. The beauty in that, Lux told her, is that without outside traffic the droid patrols are much lighter. 

 

_ Not sure how well this one’s going to blend in with the rest,  _ she thinks wryly. Northern ships are among the best on the planet, but their aesthetics don't hold a candle to some of the yachts she sees on the river. 

 

The jungle thins and the tributary takes a sharp turn toward the walls. Now she can clearly see the marina, filled with craft which wouldn't survive a single voyage during a northern winter.

 

Overhead, the Rash banners snap in the wind. 

 

Dalla yanks on the collar of her shirt, thanking the salt gods she had the wherewithal to doff her leathers when she entered the river. Instead she wears the lightest pair of pants she owns and a shirt swiped from Aunt Shara’s closet, the most southern thing she could find. They're probably out of style, but better to look like an out-of-touch southerner than a northerner. She's going to need all the help she can get to manage through the city gates. 

 

_ You've got this. You've got this.  _

 

She pulls up to one of the docks and ties off her bowline. Never in her life have her hands shaken so badly doing this, but maybe that's good. Maybe it makes her look southern. 

 

_ You couldn't be more obvious if you wrote “fugitive” on your forehead. Calm down,  _ she commands herself.  _ You have to get into the city before Lux or any of his friends will risk getting you. And if they’re like that Saw guy, then they won't take a single unnecessary risk.  _

 

Forget about the rebels. Right now she needs to get into the city walls without a droid taking notice of her. There's a pair of them standing at the gates. And the one drawback to a small marina is that there's no crowd to get lost in. 

 

_ Get a brain, Dalla. Don't look at the droids.  _

 

She looks at the water. 

 

_ Remember what the crew did to you the first day you were Father’s cabin girl? Do that. Throw something across the marina to distract them and just run for it.  _

 

That's probably going to be her best bet. She swipes an empty water bottle off her deck, fills it with river water to give it some weight, and when the droids aren't looking she chucks it hard into the side of some guy’s yacht.  _ Sorry, Yacht Guy. But there isn't any damage!  _

 

The droids look at each other. “What was that?”

 

“I don't know. It sounded like an a collision.” The other says and starts toward the yacht. 

 

_ Go go go go. _

 

Dalla jumps out of her boat and speedwalks for the gate as fast as she can without looking too suspicious. The marina’s small, and she can probably make it if the salt gods are with her. 

 

“You there! Let me see your identification.”

 

Uh-oh. “Oh, my ID?” She asks in the most innocent voice she can. “I, uh, I don't have it. It went overboard.” Are battle droids dumb? She surely hopes so. 

 

“Overboard?” One repeats. “How did it go --?”

 

“Hey clanker! Where's my boat?”

 

The droids turn their attention to a young woman wearing a helmet. “Your boat?”

 

“Yeah, my boat! It was right there.” The woman points to an empty dock. “Where is it?”

 

Dalla starts backing away when someone grabs her bicep to get her attention.

 

“Come with us,” a young man whispers and releases her arm. The voice strikes a chord of recognition. 

 

Meanwhile the woman ups the ante with the droids. “You don't know where it is? I thought you droids are here to preserve peace and order in Iziz. If that's the case, then  _ where's my freaking boat?” _

 

Dalla and the young man backpedal away from the droids and then hurry away from the marina into the city gates. 

 

“Do you know who I am?” He asks.

 

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Wouldn't have gone with you if I didn't recognize your voice.” 

 

Lux Bonteri smiles.

 

_ “We have thorns,”  _ he confirms. “Welcome to Iziz.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading, and if you have any questions or would just like to know more, don’t forget to check out our forum!


	10. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dalla's trip south to Iziz was an echo of this previous journey made by her aunt.

Despite the ship being Marlon's fastest, and he assured Shara that it was, the journey up the river seemed to take forever. Her father was dying and she couldn't get to him fast enough. She had made use of the ship’s comm room three times a day to check his condition with the med center and if he wasn't resting she assured him that she was on her way, that she was getting closer, that she was almost there. 

 

When she wasn't doing that she was at the ship’s rail watching the river bank for any familiar landmarks. She knew they were nearly there when she finally looked up the hill and saw the ranch house high on the bank. She practically skipped along the rail from stem to stern as they passed by it to keep it in view. 

 

She was watching it slip out of sight behind them, Lana came to stand beside her. “What is that place?” she asked. 

 

Shara smiled, encouraged by the proximity to their goal. “It’s Brem’s. Where he and Mel lived, when she was alive. I know he’ll let us stay there while we’re in the city. Once I’ve seen my father I’ll go and ask him.”

 

Lana placed a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m not sure that will be a good idea.”

 

“Well it’s not ideally close to the med center, I’ll admit. But it is a big house and it’s mostly empty and I’m sure Bremon won’t mind and that way I won’t have to go back to...”

 

“Shara, it was with this Bremon that you were accused of…”

 

“But we didn’t. You know that. I told you. Brem’s like my brother. I don’t think of him that way. I never have.” Shara was close to tears.  

 

Lana pulled her into a hug. “I believe you, but I must ask.” She paused to make sure that Shara was paying attention and understood the gravity of what she had to say. “When you swore your loyalty to House Blackwell you mentioned that your family had traditionally declared for the House of Kira. When you spoke to Sanjay on the comm he said they had searched Kira's place for you. Is your friend Bremon…”

 

“Bremon Kira, yes that's his name but why should that matter?” Shara asked. 

 

Marlon had come over to join them and he answered amazed. “Oh ho, it matters!”

 

“What my husband is so delicately trying to say is that your friend is not just A Kira. He must be the very last Kira.”

 

“But what does that have to do with me? Sanjay is the last of his family too. That's why they…” her eyes grew wide with horror. “That's why they were in such a hurry for Sanjay to have an heir.”

 

“And though I'm sure it was never your intention,” Lana goes on to explain. “There are those who will believe that you would rather provide an heir for another house.”

 

“We understand that's not what you were thinking of.” Marlon added gently. “And we will stand with you, Shara.”

 

“But it's not going to be pleasant.” Shara wiped away a tear. “That's what you're saying. If I try to break away from them, they're going to drag my name in the dirt. I should never have gotten your family involved. I'm so sorry…”

 

“But we’re your family now.” Marlon announced. “ We're not going to let you go through this alone.”

 

“He's right,” Lana agreed. “You've pledged yourself to House Blackwell and we've named you as godmother of our daughter.”

 

“Is that what… when I held Dalla before the salt god and repeated those words…” Shara asked amazed.

 

Marlon laughed. “Of course it's not truly official unless you've been baptized yourself. But we can take care of that when we get back and when you're ready of course.”

 

“When we get back…” Shara whispered.

 

“First thing’s first, though.” Lana brought them back to task. “It would probably be better not to make contact with your friend Bremon while we're here, at least not to initiate a meeting. I know how much you'd like to visit with him and if he comes to see about your father, we'll deal with that when it happens. But until then we won't give your in-laws any more fuel.”

 

Shara swallowed and nodded, steeling herself for what was to come. They were nearly to the city now, she knew, even though she couldn't see the wall or the buildings through the trees. Then all too soon they rounded a bend and what passed for a port came into view. 

 

She never had any memory of seeing the docks bustling with so much activity. There were militiamen lined up in their spotless uniforms and they seemed to be hampering the regular work of the day to day fishermen and porters. Shara wondered what might be the cause for all the fuss. That is until she noticed the banner that was flying over the center of the proceedings, the red field and the black serpent.

 

She thought she might be sick. “They're here for me,” she nearly choked. 

 

Lana took hold of her elbow to steady her. “It will be alright. Marlon and I are right beside you.”

 

But as the boat docked and the ramp was lowered, there was a great confusion. Suddenly Shara was surrounded by people and she lost sight of both of the Blackwells. 

 

She was swept up in a desperate embrace and something was being clasped around her throat. It wasn't tight enough to choke her but she still felt as if she couldn't breathe. Especially when Sanjay pressed his lips against hers. 

 

She struggled to push him away, gasping for air.

 

“Shara, my love!” Sanjay exclaimed. “You've returned to me. We’ve all been so worried.”

 

She stuttered, hand going to the necklace, wanting to rip it off. “I- I told you. I…”

 

And then he was wrapping something else around her shoulders, his cloak. He hadn't had a cloak with him on the day they said their vows.

 

“Everything is going to be fine now. I'm going to make it right.” He whispered against her hair. 

 

She tried to shrug the cloak away but he tightened his grip on her shoulders so that she was unable to do so. “Sanjay, I don't…”

 

He cut her short again, “You're tired. A good night's sleep, in your own bed, that's all you need.”

 

A fire lit her eyes as she looked up at him, anger beginning to replace her apprehension. “Your bed, you mean!”

 

He looked honestly hurt. “Our marriage bed, my love.”

 

“Sanjay, I told you I…” but she was halted from her tirade once again.

 

Dane Bonteri, dressed in his full uniform, flanked on each side by officers, bowed crisply to the couple. “Mrs Rash, it is good to see that you have returned safe and sound to the capital. My men are here to escort you to your father.”

 

“Yes, thank you, Lieutenant.” She nodded gratefully. “I'd like to see him as soon as possible.”

 

Sanjay scoffed. “That will hardly be necessary. Now that we have been reunited, I am perfectly capable of accompanying my wife…”

 

Dane cut him off coldly. “A military escort will see her to the med center much faster.”

 

Just then a banner with a black ship sailing across a blue field appeared behind the Lieutenant, and with it Shara was relieved to see the Blackwells coming to join the conversation. Lana was at her side in an instant, taking in the cloak and the necklace. 

 

She threw Sanjay a disbelieving scowl and then turned back to Shara. “Are you alright? I’m sorry we were separated.”

 

“I’m fine,” Shara managed. “Dane is going to give me a military escort to see my father.”

 

Both Blackwells turned to face the Lieutenant and greeted him respectfully. Then Marlon foregoing formality thrust his hand out to shake the other man’s. “You must be Bonteri. Can’t tell you how glad we are that Shara’s still got friends down here in the capital.” 

 

“Now hold on there!” Sanjay took hold of Shara’s upper arm and drew her closer to himself possessively. “Shara has plenty of friends in the city. She is a Lady of the great House of Rash. Her children will be…” 

 

“What children?” Lana glared at him and then turned away completely ignoring him. 

 

Shara wrenched her arm free, “May I introduce Lord Marlon and Lady Lana Blackwell. My Lord and Lady this is, Lieutenant Dane Bonteri and…” she added, somewhat more reserved. “And my husband, Sanjay Rash.” 

 

“What is this?” Sanjay spun her around to face him. “They aren’t your Lord and Lady. Your loyalty is to your husband’s house and family.” 

 

“I don’t really want to have this conversation right here and now,” Shara insisted. “And I don’t think you do either.” She faced the others but she couldn’t quite look anyone in the eye. “I’d like to go and see my father now.” 

 

“Of course.” Dane gestured toward the waiting speeder that would take her to the med center. He held out his hand politely to assist her into it but before she could take hold of that hand, Sanjay none too gently pushed him aside and helped her up into the speeder himself. Then her husband stepped up into the seat beside her and shut the door behind them. 

 

“Go on! To the med center! Lady Shara wishes to see her father!” He called up to the driver. The driver looked helplessly to the Lieutenant who gave a nod of grudging acceptance, though his jaw was clenched tight with anger. 

 

As they rode through the city streets, Sanjay took her hand. “Shara, I thought I had lost you,” he breathed fervently. 

 

“Who says you haven’t?” She tried to pull her hand away but he wouldn’t let go. 

 

“I didn’t tell Mother what you said about… about wanting a…”

 

“A divorce?” 

 

He winced at the word. “Shara, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you anything you want.”

 

She remembered the cloak around her shoulders and tried to shrug it off. “I don’t want anything from you, Sanjay. There’s… there’s nothing you can give me…” 

 

“We’ll find a way.” He reached up to stroke her face. “I’m told some couples try for years before they’re able to…” 

 

“Sanjay!” She grabbed his hand and shoved it away. “I don’t want to talk about this. My father is…” 

 

“Surely it would bring him comfort to know he has a grandchild on the way before…” 

 

“But there is no child, Sanjay! And I don’t believe there ever will be.” She turned her face away from him sadly. It had been all she wanted a few months ago, to give her husband a son to carry on his name. Now she couldn’t bear the idea of his touch. 

 

“You believe that curse Kira’s uncle called down on my family?” he asked clenching his fist. 

 

“No.” Shara wasn’t sure what she believed. Maybe she could believe in those salt gods the Blackwells told her about. Thinking of them reminded her of Jamos and she clamped her eyes shut trying not to give into her daydream. “I - I don’t want my … marriage to be solely based on producing an heir.”

 

“Shara, it’s not only…”

 

She interrupted him. “Are we even legally married? There were no family witnesses.” She succeeded in getting the cloak off and leaning back on it in such a way that he couldn’t draw it back over her. 

 

“And I said I would make it up to you.” He insisted. “While your father still hangs on to life, we have the opportunity to make things right.”

 

The speeder stopped and Shara didn't wait for her husband to stand and help her out. She pushed past him. “After what you… I can't think of anything that would make things right.” 

 

She rushed in through the med center doorway and a droid came to her side to lead her to the room as if it had been expecting her. Thank the gods Dane seemed to have commed ahead to let them know she was coming. 

 

They entered a lift and as the doors closed she saw Sanjay rushing after her. She said to the droid, “Please see to it that my father and I are not disturbed.”

 

“Yes, mistress.”

 


	11. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By: Lux's Sister
> 
> Dalla navigates Iziz with the help of old allies and new friends.

 

Dalla’s only experience with the city of Iziz is in holos and books. She's learned its history, listened to the songs about the city’s lights and daytime splendor, and watched the news holos and the holomovies set there. None of that prepares her for actually entering Onderon’s capital city. 

 

The street she and Lux walk onto is busier than Blackhold during peak season at the end of the day. People in clothes of all colors choke the street rushing here or there, ducking into buildings or out of them. 

 

Lux smiles at her. “Can you keep up?”

 

She nods. “Aye, as long as you lead the way. Pleased to meet you face to face, Lux.”

 

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He jerks his shoulder to signal a turn and they turn onto a slightly less congested street. 

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“We have a safe house,” Lux explains, keeping his voice low. “We're just taking the back way there so it's harder for the Separatists to track us on surveillance footage.” 

 

_ And it would be harder for me to rat you out.  _ Not a bad idea to reduce risks. “Good idea. Has it been going well?”

 

“Relatively,” he says carefully. “We’re solvent enough we can manage you.” 

 

“Thank you so much.” She couldn't say this enough times if they were her last words. “Really, Lux. I'll help you however I can while I'm here and if you need anything, inside or outside the banner oath, House Blackwell will --.”

 

“Consider this a gesture of my gratitude that your family protected my inheritance from the Separatists.” 

 

It's more than that but she drops the subject. “I'm sorry we couldn't make it to your mother’s funeral. We were all out on voyages and didn't find out until we returned to the Hold.”

 

Lux is about to reply to that when a tall, dark-skinned girl jogs up to them and whispers. “Thank gods, you found her!”

 

“Dalla Blackwell, meet Steela Gerrera,” Lux turns his smile to the other girl. “She’s one of my better friends.”

 

Steela looks back at him like Dalla’s transparent. “How did the extraction go?”

 

“Dono’s handling the droids,” Lux says. “She has the best fake ID, so she volunteered to distract them. She's probably wrapping up her tirade right now.”

 

“And how are we doing on time?”

 

“We can manage.”

 

“Great.” Steela extends her hand to Dalla. “Nice to meet you, Lady Blackwell.”

 

“Just Dalla. Good to meet you too,” Dalla shakes her hand. “I think I heard you in the background on the comm.”

 

“That was me,” Steela confirms. “How are you holding up? It's a long way from Blackhold.”

 

She has so much caffeine in her system Dalla can probably fly if she wants to. “I'm alright.” She looks farther down the alley. “Is the other guy here?”

 

“Saw?” Steela sighs. “Yeah, we decided to leave Saw back at the safe house.”

 

“Where he is probably hanging off the ceiling,” Lux says with an eye roll. 

 

“Or he's already left and gone stalking the streets. I hope he remembered non-lethal weapons only.”

 

Just to be safe in case she ends up on the wrong end of Saw the Cynic’s blaster, Dalla sends a quick prayer to the salt gods he remembered non-lethal weapons only. “Is that what you’ve been using in the city?”

 

“We don't want civilians to be hurt,” Lux explains. 

 

Now that he explains it that way it makes sense. Dalla hasn't used a blaster much at all; northerners like to settle their business up close and personal and vibroblades and knives don't afford the dangers of people getting caught in the crossfire. “Smart. It wouldn't be easy to get them on your side of there were civilian casualties.”

 

“Exactly.” Steela looks straight ahead. “But forget that. Right now we need to get you back to base. Fast.”

 

“Surveillance?” Dalla ducks her head, kicking herself for not bringing a hat. 

 

“Not so much in the alleys,” Steela admits. “But the droid patrols come this way and we have to time this perfectly if we’re going to avoid them. Your boat came in a little late --.” Curse the river currents -- “and we can't quietly deal with a patrol since none of us have ID.” 

 

“You said that girl Dono has a fake,” Dalla remembers. “Can't she point you in the direction of whoever made hers?”

 

Steela bites her lip before a smile can form. “Dono has been very closed-mouthed over how she got her fake. But it's so good I think she got a real ID from someone who looks like her.” 

 

“I played that game. When I turned sixteen, my friend Miranda wanted to borrow my ID so she could buy the strong stuff at the pub at the Hold. She was fifteen,” she laughs. “I asked her how in salt gods’ names she expected to pass herself off as me in my own backyard.” 

 

“Did it work?”

 

“She got caught the second she sat down at the bar.” And poor Miranda probably was earmarked for death while she sat at the pub with her crew. “I can't pull that stunt anyway. I didn't bring my ID or hers.”

 

“Good call not bringing yours. Hers might have been helpful,” Steela says. “I don't have one either so we just need to dodge the patrols.”

 

“We can do it if we hurry,” Lux implores and places a hand on Dalla’s back to hurry her along. “We don't want to lose you.”

 

“I don't want that either.” Getting lost would be a disaster, and so would running into a patrol. She quickens her steps and Lux and Steela match and almost surpass her pace. “How much farther?”

 

“Not far,” Steela hooks them down another alley, then two more in quick succession. “I think we dodged the droids.” 

 

They take one more turn and a smile spreads across Lux’s face. “Yes we did.” His eyes go straight to Steela, skimming over the top of the Dalla’s head. 

 

It takes all her self-control and the fact Lux and Steela are basically perfect strangers, albeit strangers who hold her life in their hands, to keep from laughing. Thias and Miranda’s puppy love was subtler than this. 

 

But then again, she doesn't suppose they care. 

 

A sentry nods to them as Lux and Steela usher her through the door and into a dimly lit room filled with people. 

 

Dono, the woman from the dock, stands with a few other people laughing. “So I screamed at them for a few minutes until Lux and the northern girl were gone and then I stormed off. They didn't even check my ID! It was awesome.”

 

“Careful not to choke on your cockiness, Dono,” a dark-skinned man with a soul patch laughs.

 

“Oh, and you're the one to talk,” Dono scoffs. 

 

“So he's distracted,” Lux whispers to Steela over Dalla’s head. 

 

“And that's a good thing.” She replies. “Neither he nor the Jedi were big on this.” 

 

Dalla’s eyebrows hit her hairline.  _ “Jedi?!” _

 

Lux and Steela share an oh-kriff look. 

 

“I thought you were going to tell her,” Steela says. 

 

“Never got the chance.”

 

Dalla steamrolls into the conversation. “You’re in contact with  _ Jedi?  _ They're that invested in Onderon?” 

 

“I know a Jedi,” Lux explains. “I simply contacted her and she set up a meeting with the Jedi Council.”

 

“Is she here?” Her heart thunders in her chest. Dear salt gods, Jedi change everything. She’ll admit she isn't the most informed about the war, but she does know that a single Jedi could take on her entire family -- father, brothers, aunt, uncle, cousins, and herself -- and win without breaking a sweat. “They could get rid of Rash within the day!”

 

“Except they’re not going to,” Steela rolls her eyes. 

 

“They're not going to?” Dalla repeats incredulously. “He's the reason the Separatists are here in the first place. Don't they want the Separatists gone?”

 

“We all want them gone,” Lux clarifies. “But since the planet is officially aligned with the Separatists, they don't have permission to fight alongside us. They're only advisors.” He sounds about as happy with the arrangement as Steela does. 

 

“Forced marriage and kidnapping are violations of sentient rights,” Steela mulls. “If she testifies Rash is trying it…”

 

“Betrothal with parental permission is legal under Onderonian law, and Rash will just say permission is  _ pending _ ,” Lux says sourly. “And so is the taking of noble hostages to ensure loyalty or cooperation in bargains.”

 

“Which Kason is.” Dalla scans the room for the Jedi, which isn't hard. The only people over age 25 as well as a Togruta girl are wearing matching dark brown robes, just like every holo she's ever seen of a Jedi. “They’re advisors?”  _ My father has advisors, but they’re bannermen we’ve known for years. Uncle Jamos and me and Glover Harkon. Thias will probably be my best advisor, Miranda too if Rash’s men hadn’t killed her. Our advisors would help us in a heartbeat if we were at war, not sit around and keep advising without lifting a finger.  _

 

As if they can read her mind (and they probably can) the older Jedi and the girl turn to face them. 

 

“I'll take care of this,” Lux says apologetically and heads over to them, leaving Steela and Dalla alone. 

 

“Well that was sudden.” 

 

“Not much isn't,” Steela shrugs. “Have a seat; I think we're both exhausted.”

 

She can sense a caffeine crash quickly approaching. “Thanks,” she says and takes a seat next to Steela on one of the couches. “So, have you lived here all your life?”

 

“Mostly,” Steela answers. “My parents were Beast Riders, but we lived in the city.”

 

Dalla notes the past tense. “It seems like a great place to live.”

 

“It is,” Steela agrees. “It may not be as fancy as Blackhold, but we had the markets and the other Beast Riders during the Summer Fete. My mother used to celebrate my birthday then because it was so close.”

 

“Summer Fete?”

 

“It's a celebration of the Beast Riders’ culture. We all meet together in the jungle and remember the old ways.” Steela frowns. “We haven't had a Fete since the Separatist takeover.”

 

_ A little like the Summer Solstice Festival, _ she thinks. “Summer’s just begun. You can probably throw one as soon as the droids are gone.”

 

“I hope,” a little of the frown disappears. “Would you come if I did?”

 

Ten minutes ago Dalla didn't know her from a Chirn, yet Steela’s magnetic. She feels she can give the other girl an honest answer. “Aye, but I'll be late. I'll be busy breaking every bone in Sanjay Rash’s body.” 

 

Steela cracks up.  _ “Ha!  _ Save a few for Saw and I.” 

 

“I took you more for the dismantling-droids type.”

 

She nods. “I am. We’ll flip for it.” 

 

“I'll take that chance.” And she just might rig that coin toss if it means getting at Rash.

 

An accented voice cuts their conversation. “I don't believe our guest has been introduced.”

 

In the split second before silence falls Steela mutters a word under her breath that Dalla’s heard more often on deck. 

 

The man with the soul patch inflates. “You actually did it.”

 

“Saw...” Steela sighs, exasperated in the way only a sister can be when her brother is being a bonehead.

 

“You brought her here?” Saw practically foams at the mouth. “My gods Steela, what else does she know? She could be reporting straight to Rash and just waiting for her husband to give her a crown. She --.”

 

“‘She’ is right here!” Dalla shouts and jumps to her feet. 

 

For a second she’s sure Saw will kill her but the look on Steela's face stops him cold. “Yeah, I see that. We're going to have to get a new safehouse.”

 

“Saw, think this through,” Steela orders. “King Rash wants to marry her. And you know he’s no romantic. He wants her so he can take the north’s navy and then make her have Rash babies. Look at her face. You think she wants any of that?” 

 

“Emotions can be faked, Steela.”

 

“That can't!” Steela jabs a finger in Dalla’s direction. “You said that the Separatists never cared about anyone else, and when someone needs our help you’re going to turn them away? You're going to turn away someone who’s willing to help us with the entire might of the north because you’re paranoid.” 

 

Dalla gets the impression Saw’s a real class act. “My aunt was married to Sanjay Rash seventeen years ago. He will do horrible things to me until he gets an heir. And he will never get an heir,” she growls. “He knows I’d rather die than let him do that to me, but he has a hostage and I wouldn’t put it past him to make an example.” 

 

The Togruta Jedi speaks up. “Jedi intelligence intercepted a private transmission from Sanjay Rash saying the hostage was his stepson.” 

 

“Did they see the end of the transmission? That hostage is my cousin Kason.” Dalla replies cooly. If her mother taught her one thing it was how to keep a calm face while simmering inside. “He's Rash’s stepson in his dreams. And since Kason already made him angry and popped his dream bubble, then the salt gods only know what Rash is going to do to him. We’ve been working on rescue plans since we found out where he was.” 

 

The older Jedi strokes his beard. “If Rash was willing to name the boy as his stepson, it’s highly unlikely he would do him harm. I see no reason for a rescue.”

 

“Kason beat up Rash in front of Count Dooku. His pride is probably boiling over.” And that’s not the only thing -- her anger is, too. ”Aren't Jedi supposed to protect innocents instead of setting them up for death?” She blurts. 

 

_ Frack! I just yelled at a Jedi!  _

 

Dalla’s sure she’s blown it. She knows less than nothing about Jedi, but she’s willing to bet the northern fleet that yelling at them is just something you don’t do. She’s done for. Banner oath or no banner oath, she wouldn’t blame Lux or the others a bit for taking the Jedi over her.

 

The bearded Jedi’s eyes widen, but the younger one smiles. “Well Master, what do you say to that?” 

 

“This complicates things,” the older Jedi ruminates. “If the king has committed a crime, that may delegitimize his claim to the throne.” 

 

“Which means the Treaty of Iziz is invalid, and Onderon is a disputed world,” the Togruta picks up. “And if it’s a disputed world, the Jedi and the Republic are allowed to remove a droid presence.”

 

“Unfortunately, that’s not the case,” Lux interjects. “It’s a good plan, Master Kenobi, but hostage-taking is legal under Onderonian law. Unless we can prove Kason was harmed with no provocation from the Blackwells -- which, Dalla?” 

 

“Between what Kason did and what my father said? Oh, we provoked him all right.” 

 

“Then Rash’s actions are allowed under the law.” Lux shakes his head. “Dalla Blackwell, meet High General Obi-Wan Kenobi, General Anakin Skywalker, Commander Ahsoka Tano, and Captain Rex.” 

 

The names ring bells of recognition from the HoloNet broadcasts she and Marlon watch at Blackhold. “You’re the --.” 

 

“Please don’t say it,” Ahsoka Tano groans. 

 

“Hey, I like hearing it,” Skywalker smirks. 

 

Lux goes on like he can’t hear them. “Masters Jedi, Captain, meet Dalla Blackwell, Lady of the north.” 

 

Skywalker lowers his hood. “So you’ve chosen to side with the Republic?”

 

“The north has always been on its own side.” Her father has kept their people out of the Clone War for this long, she's not about to sell them out now. “A war among houses is one thing, but among planets? Not the northern way.”

 

“Your people are known for avoiding galactic conflict,” Kenobi says. 

 

They would have stayed out of this conflict too, if Rash hadn’t done what he did. “We have plenty of business to contend with where we are.” 

 

Saw scoffs. Everyone but Steela ignores him. 

 

“Like it or not, she’s already here, Saw” she says. “You might as well get used to it.” 

 

Saw fixes his sister with a very black look, then Dalla with the same one laced with mistrust. 

 

“Fine,” he relents. “But when this goes downhill, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”


	12. Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We didn't really plan for this chapter to be posted so close to Father's Day but here it is, Shara's chance to speak to the man who raised her to the best of his ability. He made his mistakes along the way but he always loved his baby girl.

 

“Father?”

 

The broken man on the med center bed startled awake and tried to look around as much as the apparatus arching over his chest would allow. “Shara, my girl, was that your voice I heard?”

 

She choked back a sob. “Yes, father, I'm here.”

 

“Well, come where I can see you.” He waved her towards himself. 

 

She walked forward and took his hand in both of hers. She couldn't speak, however, she was afraid she would start crying. 

 

“Here's my girl.” He smiled at her, but he looked so helpless and broken lying there.

 

The weight of her emotions crashed over her. Shara bent over him and pressed her forehead against his cheek. It was as close as she could come to embracing him with all the machinery in the way. “Oh Father, I'm so sorry! I should have been here. I should have been with you. I should have been making those deliveries.”

 

“No. No, my girl. Shh…” he shushed her and smoothed her hair back with his hand. He touched the necklace, strands of red stones arranged to look like writhing serpents and the seven red stone pendants that resembled serpents heads. It was still clasped around her neck giving the appearance that her throat had been cut. 

 

Shara couldn't remove it fast enough now that she remembered it was there. She set it distastefully away from herself on the bedside table.

 

“You finally made up your mind to get away from that Rash character. I wouldn't have had you stay in Iziz with him for all the stars in the Galaxy.”

 

“I should never have gone behind your back and married him.” she leaned back a little, shaking her head. “I knew you didn't like him. I was sure you'd tell me not to do it.”

 

“I'm not going to argue with you there.” He agreed. Then he studied her. “How are those Blackwells treating you?”

 

“The Lord and Lady, Marlon and Lana, are wonderful. They've taken me in and dropped everything to bring me down here. They even left their sweet little baby girl up at the Hold so they could…”

 

“And the younger one?” Father interrupted her impatiently. “The second son?”

 

She didn't know how he knew and she couldn't quite meet his gaze as she whispered the name, “Jamos. But how did you know? I didn't think I had mentioned him.”

 

“Commed me himself,” he smiled. “Right after you'd left the Hold. Wanted to let me know you were coming.” He was watching her for a reaction. “I thought he was a fine, considerate young man.”

 

“He is very kind.” Shara agreed. “He's an accomplished sea captain. His whole crew respects him.” 

 

“And you're in love with him?”

 

“Father!” She marched away from the bedside, arms crossed over her chest. “I can't be in love. I'm married to someone else. I said vows. I…”

 

“Shara.” His voice was soft but it demanded her attention and obedience just as it had when she was a child.

 

“Yes, Father.”

 

“Come back where I can see ye, Shara girl.”

 

She did as she was bidden.

 

Kason Rupingwood reached out to hold his daughter's hand. “Was I invited to the wedding or did I give my permission for you to be married in my absence?”

 

“No, Father.”

 

“Look at me, child.” He sounded so frail just then.

 

She obeyed. 

 

“I was…” he frowned, frustrated. “Disappointed when you gave yourself to that monster, because you are so much better than that. Your Jamos showed me the holo of…”

 

“Father, he's not  _ my _ Jamos.”

 

“Don't you interrupt me, young lady!”

 

“Yes, Father.”

 

He repeated himself with a bit of a gleam in his eyes. “ _ Your _ Jamos showed me the holo of fishing with those… what are they called?”

 

“Brylks! Oh Father, they're marvelous creatures! Bigger than any fambaa, but smart as a dalgos and they fly under the water like rupings in the sky!”

 

There was a hitch in his chest, the machine whirred to regulate his breathing, and Shara worried until she realized it was only a sob. 

 

He gazed at her through welling eyes. “You looked just like your mother then, the way she'd get so excited anytime she learned something new. Gods I wish she could have seen how you've grown up. She would have been so proud of you. I'm so proud of you, Shara girl. I couldn't be more proud.”

 

Her own tears were falling faster than she could wipe them away, but she didn't want to let go of her father's hand. “But I've disappointed you. I married a man who I never should have…”

 

“And all that will be set right. I have no doubt of it.” The stubborn Rupingwood expression returned. “You've found a place where you truly belong and I won't see anything hold you back from making that place your home.”

 

“Father, I…”

 

“No, I want you to listen, Shara girl. This is important!”

 

She nodded.

 

“Your in-laws have got me strapped to these machines. Now I am thankful that they've kept me alive long enough to see you and speak to ye one last time…”

 

“Father, no…”

 

“Are ye listenin’ to me, Shara girl?”

 

She sobbed. “Yes, Father.”

 

He patted her hand and reached up to touch her face and wipe away her tears. “I won't have them keepin’ me alive just so they can keep ahold of you.”

 

Shara shook her head. “I can't…”

 

“This isn't living, my girl. But I've gotten to see you and I'm ready to go be with your mother.” He urged her. “I want you to turn off the machines and let me go.”

 

“No, please! They'll fit you with something. You'll walk again, ride again! Please don't ask me...” 

 

“Shara. I don't want to live like some half-droid abomination. I want you to remember me as I was. I know I wasn't perfect. Maybe I should have married again, given you a mother, but I did my best.” 

 

“I don't want to lose you,” she cried, hugging him as best she could. “You're the best father anyone could ever ask for.”

 

“And now I've done my job. You're all grown up.” He pushed her back a bit to look into her face. “You don't know how hard it's been to stand back and watch you live your own life, make your own mistakes. But you're on the right track now. I can see that.”

 

Shara could rival her father for stubbornness but right now she knew he was not to be disobeyed. “You let me go.” It was an order. “You make a clean break from House Rash, and you make yourself a new life up north. Do you hear me?”

 

She didn't want to say it, but she nodded. “Yes, Father.”

 

He pulled her close once more and then pressed the button to call for the med droid. Then while they waited her father said, “Tell me about the north, about your new home.” 

 

She knew he was trying to get her mind off the inevitable but she obliged. “I haven't really seen much more of it than the docks and Jamos's ship, it's called the Polaris, and Blackhold. But … I love it! It's so different from the jungle and the plains and the city! And Marlon and Lana have made me feel so at home. They named me as godmother of their little girl.”

 

“Ah, I saw the little one when your young man commed me.” He smiled. 

 

She was going to contradict him again about calling Jamos hers but she decided to let it go. “Of course they said it couldn't really be official unless I was baptized in the light of the salt gods. You wouldn't mind, would you, Father? We never followed much of a religion when I was growing up.”

 

“If it brings you peace, then you can make your own decisions about that.” 

 

She nodded. “I believe I will then, Father. I'll make a totally new start.”

 

* * *

 

Shara hardly knew where she was or what was happening as Mina welcomed her into the Bonteris’ home. She was told that she would be staying here while arrangements were being made for her father's burial and as long as she needed to stay after it was over. The Blackwells were staying here as well. 

 

She would be eternally grateful for all the help and support of both families but she couldn't remember if she had actually been able to articulate the words to say thank you. She walked around in a daze, hardly believing that her father was gone. 

 

Sanjay had come by to see her and had left angrily again when he was told she didn't want to see him. It was insult enough that she hadn't come home to the Rash estate. Being shut out on the doorstep was humiliating. 

 

She heard him yelling all the way from the guest room. She laid on the bed and put a pillow over her head to block out the sound. Then she must have cried herself to sleep. 

 

Some time later she was awoken by Mina Bonteri’s soft motherly voice. “Shara, there's someone on the comm for you. I told him you were resting but he'd very much like to speak with you.”

 

Shara was sure her eyes must be red and her hair a mess. “If it's Sanjay I…”

 

“It's not Mr Rash.”

 

Shara thought and then made another guess. “Bremon? Lana said it would be better if I didn't…”

 

Mina almost smiled, “It isn't Mr Kira, either.”

 

“Jamos!” she was up out of bed in a moment and looking for a hair brush and washbasin. Then she figured he wouldn't care. He'd kissed her when her hair was windblown and she was wearing handed down fishing leathers. 

 

“So you want me to show you the way to the comm room?” Mina asked, amused. 

 

Shara nodded, trying to calm herself. “Please.” 

 

When she entered the room Marlon was speaking to his brother about the running of the Hold. The younger assured the older that everything was as smooth as the windless sea, but Marlon sounded as if he wished he could be there himself just to make sure and Jamos sounded like he was bored to tears. They both went quiet when she walked into the holo field and gave a small curtsey. 

 

“My Lord. Captain.” She addressed them formally. 

 

Then Marlon wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “What are we going to do to convince this girl that she’s part of the family?”

 

Jamos gave her a concerned smile from the holo projection. He didn’t offer a joking comment as he normally would have. “Shara…” he began but then he stopped as if he didn’t know quite what to say. 

 

Marlon backed towards the door. “I’ll just let the two of you have a moment, shall I?” 

 

Shara heard the door close behind her as he left. 

 

“They told me about your father.” Jamos began again. “Shara, I am so sorry.”

 

The tears pricked at her eyes and she swept one away with her hand. “Thank you…I was able to talk to him, be with him when…” She breathed in sharply with a sob and then tried to press on. “He said he spoke to you, that you commed him to tell him that I was on my way. Thank you.”

 

“It was an honor to meet the man who raised so strong a daughter.” 

 

She didn’t feel very strong at the moment. She sobbed again and a few more tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her mouth and when she opened them and turned her gaze back to Jamos. He looked as though he wanted to jump right through the holo to be at her side. She struggled to keep her voice level. “I wanted to ask you something.”

 

“Anything!” he said without hesitation. 

 

“My - my pay for the voyage. You said that the amount would depend on the quality and quantity of the catch. It was a good catch, wasn’t it?”

 

“Salt gods, it was the best I’ve seen in years!” 

 

“Good.” She gave a relieved sigh. “I wondered if you could have my share transfered here to the med center. Father said that my husband’s family were covering things and I… don’t want to be beholden to them.” She swallowed and continued. “If you could send what I’ve earned so far and then…” She looked intently at him. “There is still time for another voyage or two this season? I’ll gladly work off the rest.” 

 

“I’ll take care of everything.” He answered eagerly. “And there’s plenty of time for another voyage. We’ll set sail as soon as you return.” He looked as if he couldn’t wait to be out on the open water with her again. Truth be told she was looking forward to that as well. 

 

“You showed Father that holo of me,” she said almost too softly for him to hear. 

 

Jamos shrugged. “I thought he’d like to see what an amazing job you’d done.” 

 

“He said he was proud of me.” The tears came again but she smiled through them. “And he said he was glad I’d found a place where I could...belong.”

 

“You do belong here.” He answered with certainty and they stared at each other for a silent few seconds. 

 

Then she wiped the tears from her cheeks and took a breath. “Are you taking good care of my goddaughter?” she asked as sternly as she could manage.

 

His eyes brightened with humor but his mouth turned down in a frown. “Well, I’m trying. But I think she prefers the wet nurse.” 

 

Shara burst out in a giggle and an honest smile. 

 

“There it is. I was hoping I’d get to see that smile before I had to let you go. Shara, I… I miss you.” 

 

She was almost sure he was going to say something else. She was a little disappointed but she knew she couldn’t say the words herself yet either. “I… should go. The faster I get things settled here, the sooner I can…” 

 

“I said I’d be waiting.” He reminded her. 

 

She nodded. Then she said a word in Onderonian that was used for ‘goodbye’ but translated more along the lines of ‘I’ll be thinking of you till I see you again.’ 

 

He repeated the word and then she ended the comm with a sigh. 


	13. And Who Are You? The Proud Lord Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt your regularly scheduled Dalla chapter to bring you the man behind the mayhem: Sanjay Rash, and his prisoner Kason Blackwell. - LS

 

According to the record he's kept on a piece of flimsi, Kason Blackwell has played sixty-three games of Dejarik with King Ramsis Dendup. For the first ten or so he was on his toes, watching the king’s pieces like a Chirn watches its prey. But as time goes on, the games start to blend into one: they set up their pieces, the king plays a slow and patient game, Kason wiggles around the board like a fish chased by a Brylk, and the king trounces him every time.

 

The excitement of hanging out with the king is also pretty nonexistent. Kason’s emotions since that general discovered he’d stowed away have run the gamut from fear, confusion, and rage. But it was interrupted by a few minutes of excitement as he, a little starstruck, realized he was talking to the king their family still proclaimed. After Rash threw him into the prison chambers fuming and red in the face from embarrassment, King Dendup cautiously approached him, offered him half a ration bar he'd been saving, and put an arm around Kason’s shoulders to escort him in. 

 

The king clears his throat, snapping Kason out of his reverie. “Your move, young man.”

 

“Right,” Kason goes back to his pieces and makes a quick move that'll hopefully delay his inevitable defeat. 

 

Dendup stares at the board to deliberate. “Do you play dejarik often, Kason?” 

 

Only here where there's nothing else to do. “We like other games better in the Hold.”

 

“I suppose the young wouldn't play it as much,” Dendup rests his finger over one of the buttons to move his pieces. “It’s a timeless game, but it seems older people like it better.” 

 

Uncle Marlon and Kason’s father play dejarik all the time, so he guesses it’s true. It’s not his favorite, but anything’s better than just sitting here. Dendup makes his move and eliminates one of Kason’s pieces. 

 

“I’m going to lose,” he grumbles under his breath. 

 

Dendup shakes his head. “I see a few ways out of your situation.” 

 

Well Kason would sure like to know those, and a way out of this palace as well. The last time he was outside was when the droids, Sanjay Rash, and General Liarface escorted him into the palace. Rash was spewing what Kason now knows are lies: We’ll discuss the match, you’ll be my honored guest, I’ll consider releasing your family from the arrangement. 

 

They might not have been lies if Kason hadn’t tackled Rash in front of the holotable and beaten him up, but he doesn’t like to think that. He prefers to think about the look on Rash’s face when Kason screamed “No way am I your stepson, not after what you did to my mom!” and descended on him in a flurry of fists. 

 

Dendup notices. “Young man, you can’t keep thinking about that over and over.”    
  


“I’m not.”  _ I’m just reliving the sweet shock on Rash’s face.  _ “Sorry. Is it my turn?” 

 

“No,” his opponent replies and goes back to the board. “I’m only concerned over the amount of time you spend in your head. It can’t be healthy.” 

 

Depends on your idea of healthy. Kason thinks getting out of the palace would sure be healthy. Instead he goes back to the game and tries to focus on getting away from the king’s pieces. 

 

Dendup’s about to beat him one more time when the door opens and Sanjay Rash enters, flanked by two MagnaGuards. 

 

Dendup gets to his feet and puts himself between Rash and Kason, the game forgotten. “What now?”

 

Rash ignores his predecessor. “Kason Blackwell, come with us.”

 

“No way!” Kason crosses his arms. “I'm not going anywhere with you.”

 

“He’s a boy!” Dendup protests. “The king of Onderon doesn't torture boys.”

 

“The king can do as he likes,” Rash raps out, and then his voice softens as he turns to Kason. “But that's not going to happen. We’re going to walk and talk.”

 

The MagnaGuards move to surround him and Kason shakily rises, not wanting to end up on the wrong end of their electric staffs. 

 

Dendup glares at Rash while Kason shuffles over to him, guided by the staffs. “I never thought you would slither so low.”

 

“I wouldn’t,” Rash agrees and leads the way out of the chamber with Kason at his side. 

 

As soon as the door shuts Kason glares at Rash. “What do you want now? Adoption proceedings?”

 

Rash glares right back. “This is a civil conversation and I expect you respect it as such. We're here to discuss your role in my upcoming wedding.” 

 

“I'm not doing anything at your wedding,” Kason spits. “It's not even a real wedding.”

 

“It's a matter of politics. Once Lana and I are married --.”

 

“You mean Dalla?” Kason jumps on the mistake. “You want to marry her and you don't even know her name?” 

 

Sanjay grits his teeth. “Once  _ Dalla  _ and I are married, Onderon will stand united and can end the terrorist threat. There will be peace again while the Separatists help us to keep order. And I promise you your cousin will come around after she's been here a while. My own mother came from the north, and she was much happier here in Iziz. Dalla will be just fine here. She is to be my wife, and I’ll treat her well.”

 

“So you say. My mom says you hurt her when you were married,” Kason argues. 

 

Sanjay stops them short and tilts the boy’s chin to force him to look into his eyes. “I never meant to hurt your mother. If she had done what was required of her, if she hadn't run away, there wouldn't have been an issue.”

 

Kason pulls back. “She had to run away because you hurt her!”

 

“I wanted to give her all this,” Sanjay gestures to the palace walls. “I wanted to make her a queen. And you --,” he corrects himself, “my son would have had,  _ will _ have all of this, a kingdom to rule after me.”

 

Kason doesn't miss the misstep. “I like my dad’s ships better, thanks.”

 

“Your dad,” Sanjay sneers. “What did your father ever give her?”

 

“Well me, for starters.” He ticks the others off on his fingers. “And my brother, and my other brother, and my  _ other  _ brother,  _ and  _ my sister!”

 

Sanjay’s face turns red as one of the banners he loves so well. “You would do well to remember that I am your king!”

 

“You sit upon a throne of lies.” 

 

“Young man, watch your mouth!”

 

“Or what?” Kason has to try not to puff up like a balloon for finally pulling one over on Rash. “I'm not scared. If you don't keep me around, Dalla’s got a way out of the marriage.”

 

There's harsh silence between the two of them until Sanjay speaks up: “I only need one family witness. I can always choose another. Your brothers, how old are they?”

 

_ Oh salt gods, what have I done?  _

 

Kason scrambles for a recovery. “If you think I’m going to be trouble at the wedding, they’d be worse.” 

 

Sanjay refuses to give that a response, which doesn’t sit well with Kason. He searches the room for something, anything that could take Sanjay’s mind off his siblings.  _ Random gold thing, no. Painting of fruit, no. Bowl of fruit, heck -- hey, what’s that?  _

 

A black-and-white portrait of a beautiful young woman with wild curly hair hangs on the wall in a simple gilded frame. She gazes into the distance, looking stiff and a little sad too. 

 

“Who’s that?” he asks, a question more of curiosity than the coming verbal barb. “Someone else you couldn’t get to stick around? Did she leave you just like my mom did?” 

 

Sanjay follows Kason’s point and his face darkens.  Kason gets the feeling he’s done his job too well. 

 

“Uh, I’m sorry,” he says but can’t take his eyes off the woman’s portrait. There’s something about her that’s magnetic, something that makes Kason want to know who she was and what she did with her life.

 

“She was a princess,” Sanjay says after swallowing hard. “A princess none can hold a candle to if they had all the lights in the galaxy.” 

 

Was? Despite everything he’s heard about curiosity killing the tooka, Kason can’t help himself. “What happened to her?” 

 

Sanjay’s frown deepens and his eyes drop from the portrait and the subject all at once.

 

There’s a long silence.  

 

“The wedding will be held at the end of next week,” he says through gritted teeth. “You will stand as a witness. You will say nothing. You will do nothing. You will simply be there in order to ensure the marriage’s validity. Two battle droids will flank you at all times to ensure your security. Do you understand?”

 

Kason has no intention of taking this sitting down. If the MagnaGuards and the portrait princess’ calming gaze weren’t there he might have tried to tackle Sanjay a second time, but he holds back. “You’re not getting your wedding.” 

 

Sanjay refuses to look at him again. 

 

“Take him back to his prison,” he orders the MagnaGuards, turning his gaze back up to the princess. “I have personal matters to attend to.”  


	14. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shara has been dreading this but now the time has come to deal with her in-laws.

She knew they hadn't expected her to give the order to take her father off the machines. She knew they would be concerned when they discovered that the credits for his medical care had been refunded to their account. Shara didn't care what the Rash family thought. He was her father and these were her decisions to make.

 

Sanjay said he hadn't told his mother that Shara wanted a divorce but she must suspect something of the sort. Shara had been away on the Northern Sea for over a month and since she'd been back in Iziz she hadn't set foot in the Rash estate. Had he really expected that he could just welcome her back with open arms and she would submit to everything they way it had been before? 

 

Shara paced back and forth across the floor of the Bonteris’ sitting room. She was wearing a mourning gown borrowed from Lana, the stays pulled extra tight to fit her thin frame. Her sickness on the sea voyage, secluding herself from captain and crew, and then her worry over her father had left her almost gaunt. 

 

She smoothed her hands down the front of the dress. What if she had been pregnant? Would she have even risked her beast master duties? 

 

She’d been reckless. It had been a gamble that her last encounter with Sanjay had been just as fruitless as all the rest. And she was glad for the first time since their relationship began. Shara was unspeakably thankful that there was no child growing within her to tie her to the House of Rash. 

 

What else was there? The vows they had said before Naidon Kira? The crazy old man was the only witness and no one had seen him since he'd been denied Bremon's child who had been prophesied to be a powerful Force user. Surely if that had been the case Mel and her baby wouldn't have died in that crash. 

 

Everything changed that day. The promises she and Sanjay had made to each other months before their so called wedding didn't seem to matter anymore. 

  
  


_ She remembered what it had been like in the beginning, the compassion she had felt for the lord's son who was under so much pressure to live up to his family name.  He had seemed so sad and all she had wanted to do was to bring some joy into his life.  _

 

_ She remembered the way his eyes would light up when she'd arrive with the fruit delivery and she'd tease him that it was only the jogans he was excited about and it had nothing to do with her. Then he would take her hand and lead her to some quiet corner where they could be alone together. He'd been shy at first but she'd drawn him out. He'd been so surprised when she'd told him that she didn't have a boyfriend and had never really ever had one.  _

 

_ “How is it possible that a girl as beautiful as you has gone so long without an army of suitors?” Sanjay had asked her. _

 

_ She'd gone on to explain how her father had always tried to protect her from the wrong sort of attention or had charged one of her beast rider 'brothers’ to watch out for her. As such everyone among her own circle had tended to stay away.  _

 

_ “Do you want me to stay away?” Sanjay had asked before he bent to kiss her that first time. _

  
  


She was still thinking of that kiss when the man himself came charging into the sitting room. He raced to her and then his mouth was on hers. It was only because she'd just been reliving old memories that she allowed the kiss to linger. And then rather than Sanjay, another face swam into her imagination. How was it possible that she suddenly felt as if she was cheating on Jamos with her husband? She pushed him away and she saw that his mother had followed him into the room.

 

“You’re too thin, Shara. Haven't your hosts been feeding you properly?” was Lady Rash's greeting.

 

Shara gritted her teeth. “Worried your broodmare isn't getting sufficient nutrition?”

 

“Shara?” Sanjay whispered, shocked at her words. “Mother was only trying…”

 

“You said it, not me.” Lady Rash waved a hand haughtily.

 

“Mother, she's just lost her Father.” Sanjay put an arm around his wife.

 

She attempted to shrug him off but still gave him a grudging, “Thank you.”

 

“Of course, my love, that's why we're here.” He tried to kiss her temple but she bowed away from him.

 

“You still haven't told her.” Shara accused him.

 

He pulled her closer even though she was attempting to leave his side. “I was sure it was only the worry over your father,” he whispered. “You couldn't possibly want…”

 

The Blackwells entered the room then, followed by their hosts Dane and Mina. 

 

Sanjay loosened his hold enough that Shara was able to move away from him and she went to stand between Lana and Mina. 

 

Lana gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. Dane and Marlon stood imposingly on either side of their wives. 

 

Sanjay seemed to shrink a little, faced by the wall of opposition, before his mother elbowed him and forced him to stand to his full height. 

 

After a few more uncomfortable moments of silence Sanda Rash huffed with annoyance. “Are we expecting anyone else? Is this…” she gestured towards those present as if they were beneath her. “My daughter-in-law’s full guard?”

 

“You're the one who called this meeting,” Marlon growled. “So why don't you tell us what it's all about.”

 

Lana patted his arm to calm him but the look on her face was just as stern.

 

“I shouldn't have had to request a meeting. If Shara had been allowed to come home where she belongs…”

 

“I wanted to stay here!” Shara spoke up a little more harshly than she intended. She swallowed and then began again. “I wanted to…”

 

“To be closer to the med center.” Sanjay stared imploringly into her eyes. “To be closer to your father. But now that… now you can come home and be with your family.”

 

Shara shook her head she wanted to scream that she would never return to that prison. But the pleading in Sanjay's expression stopped her short. 

  
  
  


_ She remembered the first time she'd given herself to him, how he'd promised that as soon as they had a child on the way they would tell everyone. And then his mother would see how they were meant for each other.  _

 

_ She had cried out in pain when he took her and it wasn't until then that he really believed that he was her first. He must have grown so accustom to deceptions, being raised by his mother, that he would never expect that that a pretty girl would be honest about saving herself for him.  _

 

_ Thinking about himself, Shara realized in hindsight. He hadn't held her to console her in her pain and the loss of her virginity. He had thanked her for giving him her friendship and some day soon a child to carry on his name.  _

 

_ “Of course, Sanjay, I love you.” She'd told him, needing to hear the words in return and only then did he look back at her and smile. It was like she'd spoken the words in a foreign language that he only now had come to understand. And she'd wondered then if his parents had ever told him that they loved him.  _

 

_ “I… love you,” he'd said then, brokenly for the first time.  _

 

_ She had felt so sorry for him, thinking about how much her father loved her and how much she loved her father. That was why she wanted so badly to give Sanjay a child and why she had sung him that song on their wedding night, the old beast rider's song about a child's love for his father. _

 

_ Sanjay had told her enough times since then that he loved her but now she wondered if he ever truly understood what he was saying. He had told her he loved her a month ago while he was taking her against her will. Even if she was a whore, he’d said, he still 'loved’ her. _

  
  
  


Shara pressed her eyes shut so she didn't have to look at him standing there across the room.

 

“That still doesn't explain why the credits we had paid to cover her father's treatment were refunded to our account from the med center,” Mother Rash was saying. 

 

Shara shook her head to bring herself back to the present. “I wanted to pay for that myself,” she spoke up. 

 

“You?” Mother Rash stared at her in surprise. “What means have you of coming up with such a sum?”

 

“I… got a job.”

 

“Shara,” Sanjay drew her attention once again with the offended tone of his voice. “There was no need for you to go back to work. I took you away from all that when we were married. I … my family will provide everything you need.”

 

“I like working.” She dropped her gaze.  “I was bored shut up in that house all the time.”

 

“She's good at what she does, too.” Marlon added, not very helpfully. 

 

The color rose in Shara's cheeks at the praise and then burned brighter when she heard the jealousy in her husband's voice. “We'll find you something to keep you occupied here. You needn't run all the way to the Northern Sea because you're bored!”

 

“That's not exactly what I…” Shara began but she was interrupted by her mother-in-law.

 

“Of course you will allow us to help with the burial arrangements and expenses.” It was not a question. 

 

Shara straightened her spine and looked the elder Lady Rash in the eye. “The Rupingwood tomb is in the beast riders’ cemetery. It's where my mother was laid and it's where my father wanted to rest as well.” She was glad she was able to finish the sentence without breaking down. A small sob escaped her as soon as the words were out. 

 

Sanjay stepped towards her and took her hands in his in an attempt to comfort her. It was a sweet gesture but it was too little too late.

 

Dane and Marlon closed ranks protectively but Sanjay hardly seemed to notice. “Come home,” he whispered to her desperately. “Let me take care of you.”

 

“That's not my home.” Shara replied. “I want…”

 

He didn't let her finish, throwing a worried glance back at his mother. “Alright, if you need a bit of time and space to grieve.” He looked around, annoyed at the Bonteris and Blackwells as if they were the ones crowding his wife. 

 

“I assume you will comm us with the date and time of the funeral?” Mother Rash asked, clearly done with the audience.

 

“Yes, of course we will.” Mina spoke up for the company. The others seemed preoccupied with frowning at Sanjay in various degrees of anger and incredulity.

 

“Come along then, Sanjay.” She ordered him like a child or a pet.

 

To her surprise he didn't immediately follow. “In a moment, Mother. I'd like to speak with Shara.” He looked around at the others. “Alone?”

 

“I'll be outside in the speeder. Please don't keep me waiting long. It's a warm day.” Lady Rash made her way towards the door and Mina as lady of the house went along to see her out. The others seemed in no way willing to leave Shara alone with the young man.

 

Sanjay visibly relaxed once his mother had left the room. “Please.” He said again looking this time directly at his wife.

 

“It's okay.” Shara nodded to the others.

 

“We'll be right outside if you need us,” Dane assured her as they hesitantly left the couple alone.

 

The first thing Shara did once the door was shut was to take two large steps to put some distance between she and her husband. His disappointment was palpable. “You left your necklace at the med center. I'm sure it was an accident. Your mind was on other things.”

 

“I don't want it.” She turned away from him.

 

“Is there someone else?” Sanjay jumped right to the question he most wanted to have answered.

 

Of course Jamos's face sprang into her mind almost immediately, but she hadn't even known him when she had first decided she had to get away. “No,” she said and she was glad that it didn't feel like a lie. 

 

“When I said that… when I called you… I never should have called you that! It was inexcusable. But what I meant was if… you had been with someone else… I would still love you.”

 

She didn't say a word.

 

“Is it because of mother?” He stepped up close behind her and put his hands on her waist.

 

“In part, I suppose.” Shara tried to move away from him but his arms circled her holding her in place.

 

“She was right about your getting so thin.” His breathing was becoming more ragged. “I could fix that. Let me put my child in your belly.”

 

“Sanjay, please I…”

 

“It's what we both want, what we've always wanted.”

 

She managed to twist out of his grasp. “And we tried for two years and failed. Besides, it's… it’s not the same at all. You want a way to carry on your name. I want a baby to hold in my arms to love and sing to and nurture, to watch them grow up and teach them what's right…”

 

“I'll give you that,” he said grabbing for her again. 

 

“No. Even if we could...” She backed further away. “You know it wouldn't happen that way. As soon as your mother has an heir it will be all wet nurses and nannies and tutors and boarding school. She won't want me to have anything to do with raising her precious grandchild.”

 

He tried to make a joke. “Then she will leave you and I free to make another, and surely the second will be allowed more leniency. Melanna was always able to get away with….”

 

“And what if I can't give you a second!” She yelled and then fought to calm herself. “What if I can never give you any children at all? Let me go, Sanjay. Go find someone else who's worthy and capable of providing the next generation of the House of Rash.”

 

“I don't want anyone else, Shara.” He seethed. “I want you!”

 

Just then the door burst open and in marched Lady Rash followed by a droid. “I nearly forgot. You may be thin as a whip but you could still be hiding the spark of life deep within your womb.”

 

“You want that thing to scan me?” Shara asked, raising her arms to give the optical sensors better access to her midsection. “Fine. I've nothing to hide.” 

 

As the droid began its scan, Lieutenant Bonteri raced back into the room. “What's going on here?” Dane demanded.

 

Shara had reached her limit. She was done with being polite and she was done with the House of Rash. “My mother-in-law is just making sure I haven't been prostituting myself on the high seas.”

 

“Shara?” Sanjay exclaimed, shocked.

 

She turned on him, even as the droid proclaimed that her womb was still empty. “Tell her! Tell your mother what I want.”

 

He looked back and forth between the two women. “I- I can't … don't want…”

 

Shara fumed. “Well if you won't.” She turned back to the elder Lady Rash and looked her fearlessly in the eye. “I want a divorce. I want to be free of you and your son and your whole family!”

 

Sanjay came to her side, incoherently pleading with her, practically grovelling at her feet. 

 

She tried to shake him off. “That is if a divorce is even necessary.” Shara went on. “As we had no family witnesses and the man who performed the ceremony is long gone.”

 

“Oh, Sanjay, stop sniveling. You're making a fool of yourself,” his mother chided him. Then she heaved a great sigh as if she had known this coming all along. “If it's what she wants and she's failed to provide you with an heir…”

 

“Mother, I love her!” Sanjay whined. “I vowed that I would be hers and she would be mine forever!”

 

Shara was about to say something but she didn't have to. For once in a lifetime she and Sanda Rash agreed on something. The matriarch shook her head. “And there was no one present to witness your vows which makes them all but invalid.”

 

Sanjay frantically tried to salvage the situation. “But everyone believes us to be married. Think of the scandal, Mother.”

 

Shara looked to Dane for help. The Lieutenant had certainly dodged a blaster bolt when he had married Mina rather than going through with his betrothal to Melaana and joining this insane family. He nodded to her in solidarity.

 

Mother Rash was just answering her son's point, “That is why you will stand up with her at her father's funeral and then we will set a date to quietly address the issue of the annulment of your marriage.”

 

“It is time for both of you to leave.” Dane said as politely but firmly as he could.

 

“You are quite right.” Lady Rash motioned to her droid and then to her son. “Come along, Sanjay.”

 

Sanjay turned to Shara once more before he followed his mother out. “I will stand by you at the funeral. I will always stand by you. I love you, Shara.” Before she could react he kissed her hard and then swept out of the room. 

 

“Are you alright?” Dane asked her, worry evident in his expression as well as embarrassment that he had allowed such a thing to take place under his roof.

 

“I… I'm fine. Or I will be.”

 

“I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. There was a comm. Little Dalla sneezed. Marlon's brother was worried about her. Mina was attempting to explain what we did to treat Lux when he had similar symptoms…”

 

Just then there was a yell from out in the hallway. It was Lana's voice. “You won't come anywhere near her! If you do I will fight you here or I'll fight you in the north! I will fight you on the very steps of the palace with Dendup as referee….” 

 

Dane and Shara looked at one another and then ran out the door to see what had happened. 

 

The driver of the speeder was taking the Rashes away down the street as fast as the vehicle could carry them and Lana Blackwell looked as if she might run after them on foot. Marlon had a hand on her shoulder but he was smiling, proud of his wife's strength. 

 

“What happened?” Mina asked before anyone else could, rushing out of the house with Lux in her arms.

 

Lana was shaking with rage. “That woman,” she cursed in Onderonian. “Told her son that if Shara was still the girl he wanted that he had to find a way to get her pregnant before the date of the annulment.” 

 

They were all so busy watching the Rashes race away in their speeder that no one was paying attention to the other family that walked up and joined them from the other direction.

 

“Guess I'm not getting my fishing boat back, then?” A deep voice made Shara jump and spin around. 

 

“Geb!” She exclaimed, reaching up and standing on her toes to throw her arms around the big carpenter in a hug. “I'm sorry. I left it up at the Hold.”

 

He laughed. “That's alright, little one. I can make another.”

 

“And Edda,” Shara moved from the man to his wife and embraced the woman as well. “You came!”

 

“Why of course we did.” Edda passed the baby girl she was holding over to her husband and held Shara back at arm's length to look her over. “We all miss him, child, but your father wouldn't want you to starve yourself.”

 

“I know. I forget.” She shrugged. From her old friend the admonishment was easier to take.

 

Edda gave her a motherly pat I on the cheek. “I brought you some of my jogan pie. You won't forget to eat that, will you?”

 

“No.” Shara shook her head. “I might share a few slices though.” 

 

“These are the Blackwells I presume?” Edda asked. The Gerreras were already acquainted with Dane and Mina, and Geb, not standing on ceremony, had already extended his hand to Marlon and introduced himself. 

 

Shara was glad. She was too drained to make formal introductions. “This is Marlon and Lana, Edda, Geb…”

 

“And me!” The little boy pushed his way forward past his parents and announced his presence.

 

“And this is Sawyer.” Shara smiled at him. 

 

He scowled. “It’s Saw and that's Steela!” He pointed out his sister so she could have equal attention.

 

“Of course. I would never forget Steela.” She assured him.

 

He nodded, appeased for the moment.

 

“She is darling.” Lana told Edda. “But she makes me miss my Dalla. How old is she?”

 

“A year this past week, and into everything.” Edda pulled her daughter's hand back from trying to grab for Lux.

 

Steela squealed, “Baby! Baby!”

 

Tears came unbidden to Shara's eyes. She remembered when Edda had announced that she and Geb were expecting again. Shara and Sanjay had only just started trying but she'd been so sure that it was only a matter of time before there would be a playmate for the new Gerrera baby. 

 

Edda turned to her with concern when she heard Shara sob. “Ah Shar.” Then she asked Mina. “Is there a place where we can go and talk?”

 

“The sitting room is open. You can take her there, and I'll have the droid come and bring you both some refreshments.” Mina opened the door with her free hand and ushered them into the front hall.

 

Once they were alone and the door shut behind them, Shara allowed Edda to draw her into a hug as her tears continued to fall.

 

“Your father was a good man. He loved you. But he's not in any pain now. He's gone to be with your mother.”

 

“I know all that.” Shara pulled back a bit and sniffed. “I wasn't… thinking of him just now.” That made it worse. She sobbed at her own selfishness. “I was thinking that… that I never… I mean that I couldn't… I'm still not…  pregnant.”

 

Edda's eyebrows raised. “Don't tell me you were hoping to be.”

 

“Well no, of course not, not now but… What if it was my fault? What if I can't? If I'm never able to…”

 

“Shara girl,” Edda sighed and pulled her back into a hug. “Don't you worry about that. When the time is right and when the right man comes along… ”

 

Shara leaned back to look her friend in the eye. “I think he already has.”

 

“Oh has he? And just who might this be?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of history between these two friends. Even though Edda is around 11 years older than Shara, she filled a big sister role and attempted to answer the sort of questions that were too uncomfortable for Shara's father to deal with. Being busy with her own family however, Edda wasn't always able to keep as close an eye on her young friend as she would have liked and to her dismay her advice was often misinterpreted. 
> 
> please review and if you have any questions or would just like to chat with Lux's Sister and me stop by our forum:  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/myforums/DuchessKenobi/272031/


	15. Crime of Fashion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like Obi-Wan said, Dalla isn’t sure whether the rebels are more intent on fighting the droids, or each other. It seems everyone has a skeleton in his or her closet. By: L.S.

“I’m just saying,” Dono says when the others get back from carrying out miniature strikes. “You look like you’re wearing your mother’s clothes.”

 

“I don’t have southern clothes. I had to raid my aunt’s closet so I don’t stick out like a sore thumb,” Dalla explains. “She still had some of the stuff she brought when she moved up north.” 

 

“And she should have left that shirt behind.” Dono points to it. “Are those embroidered fruits?” 

 

Dalla holds out the front of her/Aunt Shara’s shirt so she can see the large, garish fruit embroidery. “Aye, they are.” 

 

“Sweet Unifar,” Dono groans. “You can’t wear that.” 

 

“I've seen senators wear stranger things,” Ahsoka Tano announces in what Dalla guesses is an attempt to make her feel better about the shirt. “Some of their gowns look more like sculptures.” 

 

“At any rate, what else am I supposed to wear?” Dalla raises her hands in surrender. The only other clothes she brought south are her leathers, which are impractical in the southern heat and a dead giveaway. Maybe Dono wouldn’t think the shirt is so ugly if it wasn’t rumpled from sleep. 

 

_ “Anything,”  _ Dono urges. 

 

Steela speaks up from where she’s cleaning her rifle. “Dono, get back to us when you can make clothes appear out of thin air.” 

 

“If I could do that, I would be rich.” Dono scoffs. “But even though I’m not, that fruit abomination needs to go.”

 

“You’re such a fashionista,” one of the other girls chides.

 

The others giggle as if they’re in the middle of a slumber party, which they almost are. The rebels only have enough room to form one men’s sleeping chamber and one women’s, and with so little room they’re sleeping like tookas in a pile.

 

Dono huffs. “It’s not my fault you all can't detect horrible outfits.” 

 

“Well there is a plus,” another girl points out. “If Rash sees her, he’ll be too focused on the fruit to notice who she is!” 

 

Everyone but Dono bursts out laughing, even the seemingly-stoic Ahsoka. 

 

“What if I get one of those hats that looks like a giant bowl of fruit?” Dalla laughs. Dono visibly shudders.

 

“That's it. I can't look at it anymore,” She vaguely gestures to Dalla’s shirt and walks over to her bedroll. 

 

“What am I supposed to do then? Walk around topless?” Dalla asks and Steela almost doubles over her gun from laughter. 

 

Dono rifles around her things and chucks a wad of tan fabric to Dalla. “Use this!”

 

Dalla unfolds the fabric, revealing a tan cargo shirt. 

 

“Of course you have extra clothes,” the girl who suggested Rash would be distracted by the fruit embroidery jests.

 

“You're just jealous, Hero,” Dono replies unruffled. “You're not the one who was in danger of wearing a fruit monstrosity.”

 

“Says the one who wears a helmet shaped like a salad bowl,” Hero shoots back.

 

Dono scoops up her helmet and puts it on, posing like a fashion model. “I don't just wear it. I pull it off. No one can pull off a shirt like that.” 

 

“This one’s more my speed,” Dalla admits and buttons the tan shirt.

 

“See? Fashion crisis averted. Everyone’s happy.” 

 

Hero slow claps. 

 

Dalla plunks down next to Steela and Ahsoka while Dono and Hero exchange japes.

 

“Are they normally like this?” 

 

Ahsoka raises an eye marking at Steela to ask the same question. 

 

“Most of the time,” Steela admits. “Dono lived nearby when I was a kid, and Hero’s one of her best friends. Even if they do pick at each other.”

 

“There are some like that in the Temple,” Ahsoka says. “Barriss and I don’t really pick at each other, but we do have our differences.” 

 

Dalla remembers a few girlhood clashes with Miranda, most in good humor and the few that weren’t resolved themselves within a fortnight. “Had one like that too.” 

 

Meanwhile, Dono and Hero are still going at it. 

 

“I can’t believe you called my helmet a salad bowl.” 

 

“I could dump lettuce in it and no one could tell the difference. And you thought that shirt was bad.” 

 

“There are some things that would be horrible on some people but work on others, like my helmet. And then there are things like that shirt, which is just awful and needs to be burned.” 

 

Dalla preemptively puts her hand over the folded shirt. “Dono, this isn’t mine for you to burn.” 

 

“Really? It's a shame.” Dono shakes her head. 

 

“We're getting ready to carry out attacks on the droids,” someone realizes. “And we’re talking about  _ fashion?” _

 

“Believe it or not that topic comes up pretty often with the clones,” Ahsoka admits. 

 

“No kidding?” Steela raises her eyebrows. “I wouldn't have thought with men…”

 

“It's mostly about hair or tattoos or armor design,” Ahsoka continues. “They listen to the trends and adapt them to fit regulations.”

 

“And that’s why your captain is a blonde?” Most of the clones Dalla’s seen in holos have dark hair. 

 

“Don’t ask me how it happened, but he’s actually a natural blonde.” 

 

“Don’t tell Dono or she’ll try to accessorize his armor,” Steela says out of the side of her mouth. 

 

Dono’s attention zips over to them. “Did I hear my name?” 

 

“No,” Dalla lies. 

 

Steela hides her smile behind her rifle. “Just talking about guns.” 

 

Dono doesn’t pick up on the falsehood. “We hear enough about that in the briefing room. I’m never going to get how you can talk about that on your own time.”

 

Hero elbows her. “You really want to say that to Steela while she’s holding her rifle?”   

 

Dono considers that a moment, then grabs her helmet (which, Dalla admits, does sort of look like a salad bowl) and shuts up. 

 

There’s a knock on the door and General Kenobi pops his head in. “Ladies, General Skywalker and Captain Rex are ready to speak with you.” 

 

“Don’t want to keep them waiting,” Ahsoka says and gets to her feet, holding out a hand for Steela to take. 

 

“They aren’t the patient types,” Steela explains and ushers Dalla ahead of her. 

 

“They didn’t look it.” The generals and the captain share their looks with sea captains raring to leave port during the high season. Clearly, they want out of here and back to the war or the Temple or wherever Jedi go. Ahsoka, on the other hand, seems in no rush to leave. 

 

The women file into the common room and take their seats: Dalla next to Dono in the back, Steela between Lux and Saw on one of the benches. The Jedi sit together, on the bench opposite from them. 

 

“Your success will not go unnoticed,” Skywalker announces, and cheers break out. 

 

“I like the sound of that,” Dalla smiles to Dono. If the rebels stick anything to Rash, it’s personally satisfying. 

 

Dono holds out her hand for a high-five. “I think I like it more.” 

 

“I agree, but we need to be mindful of public perception,” General Kenobi announces. “What was your observation, Padawan?” 

 

“The people were fearful, Master.” 

 

“Indeed.” 

 

“They were?” Dalla whispers to Dono just loud enough that it catches the Jedi’s attention. “We decided it would be best that I stayed here for today’s mission,” she explains. And from the look on Saw’s face, he’d rather have left her locked in a room. “But you said they were afraid?”

 

“To those who were watching, yes.” Kenobi says. “Judging from the reactions I saw today I’m afraid they will mistake your intentions?” 

 

“We need to do more damage,” Saw growls and punches the air for emphasis. “A few dozen broken-down droids will do little to free Onderon.” 

 

“The people need to believe we can succeed. Without their support, their efforts are meaningless,” Steela protests. 

 

“If they’re afraid, they won’t support us,” Lux argues. “We need to assure them of our intentions.” 

 

Saw looks dumbfounded for once. “I don’t understand. Why are they afraid?” 

 

“Maybe because you broke the nonlethal-weapons-only rule,” Hutch grumbles. Hero steps on his foot to shut him up. 

 

Steela speaks over the peanut gallery. “They’re afraid we’re not strong enough to win. We need to earn their trust!” 

 

Has anyone ever told Steela she could be the Lady of a Great House? She seems well versed in Getting People To Do What You Want 101. 

 

“You’ll have plenty of time to earn their trust. All of you are going to be very busy,” Skywalker says. 

 

“Today was only a taste,” Captain Rex, the natural blonde Steela fears Dono will try to accessorize, announces. “You’ll all get your chance.” 

 

“In the meantime, make the most of your victories. Welcome and learn from them.” 

 

But Lux is already back in planning mode. “Perhaps if we hit something big. Give a show of strength.” He pulls his arms behind him, the very picture of the lord he is. “They’ll overcome their fear and join us.” 

 

“Do you have something in mind?” Ahsoka asks. 

 

“I know the perfect target.” 

 

Lux said House Bonteri’s words when she arrived in Iziz, and now she can see his thorns poking out of him. If anyone tries to bother him, he’ll prick their fingers. 

 

She has to hand it to him; he learned well. There’s a reason Great Houses parade their banners and show their might, and it’s that their strength is their best and sometimes only weapon. She and Lux were raised as lordlings. They’ve grown up watching their parents show their strength, learned how to show their own, be it on deck or on the Senate floor. 

 

While he holds the position, she fills herself with resolve. Those who look upon her and Lux must know who they are even without their banners. They must see the thorns erupting from his skin. And when they look at her they must only see the ocean, deep and cold and deadly.  

 

If they do it well enough, the people might think twice before declaring for Rash. 

 

...

 

It looks for all the universe like Steela’s planning on leaving her behind for this run too, at least until Dalla walks up to her in the briefing room and asks, point-blank, what she wants her to do. 

 

“Right now I don’t have a clue. I’m still working on the distraction part,” Steela admits and hunches over the holotable. “Whatever target we’re going after, it’s bound to be heavily guarded by patrols and we’ll need to get rid of at least some of them before we can get in. Ahsoka, do you have any thoughts?” 

 

Dalla still can’t believe the two older Jedi and the clone left Ahsoka alone on Onderon. She’s old enough to do it, sure, and that’s she’s done it before Dalla as no doubt. But the sound of betrayal and disappointment still rings heavy in the rebels’ ears. 

 

“I couldn’t tell you anything until he tells us what his target is, but … you don’t think he’s planning on hitting the palace, do you?” Ahsoka asks. 

 

“Oh gods, I hope not,” Steela massages her temples. “I wouldn’t put it past Saw to do that, but Lux? He’s so...grounded. 

 

It sounds like Steela wants to put another adjective there, but with Ahsoka in the room goes for another. Dalla has to agree with this one. “That’s the Bonteri in him. They’ve always been pragmatic. Well where else is there?” She ticks the options off on her fingers. “Malagan Market we use, Yolahn Square’s too close to the palace, we could hit various government buildings, the canal --.” 

 

“Forget the canal. He knows that’s the best way for northern ships to get in, and he’s not going to risk losing potential reinforcements from the Blackwells.” The look on Steela’s face seems to add  _ And I hope we’ll be getting some of those reinforcements soon.  _

 

Dalla can play this game too. “We can’t send the navy right now. It’s too early, my father doesn’t know where I am and there’s no way he can learn for certain. My comlink is at the bottom of the sea.”

 

Steela’s face falls. 

 

“Too bad it’s not the canal,” Dalla changes the subject. “Otherwise we could just load an empty boat with explosives and rig it to go off when it’s a good distance away from the strike point. That’ll draw patrols its way.” 

 

Ahsoka and Steela share a look. 

 

“Has it worked before?” 

 

“It’s not an uncommon move up north. We’ve sent flaming skiffs into our enemies’ navies as long as we can remember.” Some of the most famous naval battles in history were decided by flaming skiffs. “And I could definitely rig one for you if you want.” 

 

“We have to be mindful of civilians,” Ahsoka says. “If anyone is killed, or their property damaged, it’ll only scare them more.” 

 

“That and damaging the canal isn’t an option. Not if we’re to preserve trade and keep the option open for --.” she picks a good word. “Outside assistance. But if we don’t use fire, nothing would be damaged.” 

 

Dalla raises an eyebrow. “How do we remove fire from a flaming skiff?” 

 

“I have a few ideas,” Steela says. “Stay close and -- hold on. Where are Lux and Saw?” 

 

Dalla decided a while ago that she wanted no part in Lux and Saw’s feud, especially since her allegiance in it is pretty much set in duracrete. “I haven’t seen them since the briefing.” 

 

As if cued, a shot echoes through the safehouse. All three women dash out of the briefing room in a full sprint. 

 

“What happened?” Steela demands, skidding into the common room as if she’s on skates. “Is everyone okay? Has someone been shot?” 

 

“Everyone’s fine,” Lux says quickly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“Nothing to worry about?” Saw repeats. “Bonteri here doesn’t know to keep the safety on at all times!” 

 

Dalla’s eyes go wide at the blatant violation of gun safety and Steela’s eyebrows hit her hairline. 

 

“Lux, is this true?” Ahsoka asks. 

 

“I kept it pointed at the floor,” Lux defends himself and points at the carbon scoring on the floor as proof. 

 

Steela relaxes visibly once she realizes nobody’s hurt but Saw’s still wound up tight. “If you can’t even hold a blaster properly then how are you supposed to use it on the battlefield?” 

 

“It was an accident,” Lux snaps. 

 

“One event is an accident. Two is a pattern!” 

 

Dalla whispers into Steela’s ear. “Should we stop them?” 

 

“Way ahead of you,” Steela whispers, and then at a normal volume: “We don’t have time for arguments like this, guys.” 

 

“When will we have time for one? When Bonteri shoots someone?” 

 

“For the love of --.” 

 

“Knock it off!” Steela shouts. “Saw, briefing room. Lux, storeroom. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

 

Saw shoots one last dirty look at Lux before stalking off for the briefing room with the galaxy’s heaviest footfalls. Not to be outdone, Lux slams the storeroom door behind him. 

 

Hero’s jaw hangs open in awe. “Did you just put them in  _ time-out?”  _

 

“I think I did,” Steela says as if she can’t believe it. 

 

Dalla cautiously places a hand on the other girl’s back. “Do you want me to take one and you take the other?” 

 

“Please.” 

 

They set off for the hallway connecting the storeroom and the briefing room and Dalla whistles. “Holy krayt, am I glad I didn’t get in Saw’s way earlier.” 

 

“He was never like this,” Steela sighs. “The old Saw would have just laughed about it or just yelled at Lux once, but never jump down his throat like that.”  

 

“He got older and meaner with it?” Dalla guesses. 

 

“Not really. It started when our parents died.”

 

Dalla blinks. “I'm so --.”

 

“Remember the draft?” Steela continues, talking over her. “It was right after the Treaty of Iziz. I don't remember seeing northerners in the military spaceport.”

 

Dalla nods. She remembers her father arguing with Glover Harkon for hours on end about whether or not to send the navy to the mouth of the river. They hadn't signed the Treaty of Iziz and feared it might be pushed on them. Turned out it was one thing Rash had the decency not to do. “Did it get to your parents?”

 

“They enlisted.” Steela looks at her feet. “They knew they were going in anyway. They wanted to stay together, and they wanted to be with their friend. So Dane Bonteri pulled some strings to bring them both to his platoon when they went to set up a base on Aargonaar.”

 

Dalla’s stomach sinks to her feet. The world shook from the Aargonaar Ambush so hard you could feel it at the tops of Blackhold’s towers. Old men and women claimed the salt gods wept from  the planet’s pain. 

 

“I'm so sorry,” she whispers and puts her hand on Steela’s shoulder again.  _ Sweet salt gods, no wonder she wants the Separatists gone.  _

 

“I was fifteen. I thought that when someone died in a war it was some noble sacrificial thing, but not for them. They were just helping to build the base when the clones ambushed them and --.” She wipes her eyes.  “After they died, Saw didn't smile for months. He used to smile all the time. And when we decided we needed to end the droid occupation and all this started he’s angry all the time and he picks at Lux and his ego’s never been bigger.”

 

Dalla looks for somewhere they could sit down, finds nothing, and shuts the hall door to give Steela some privacy. “I get it,” she replies. “I really do. My mom died when I was thirteen and it wasn’t some great and noble sacrifice either. There was a storm, we were deploying the lifeboats and she was crushed when our main mast broke off.”

 

“We got a comm from them saying they got to Aargonaar and everything was fine, and the next thing we knew a battle droid was knocking on our door. They didn’t even send an  _ organic,”  _  Steela spits. 

 

“I don’t remember what happened next,” Dalla admits, poking at her crooked teeth with her tongue. “The lifeboat hit me in the face and knocked me out. When I woke up I couldn’t feel my face and my father was holding my head above water.” 

 

They stand there between the two rooms holding Lux and Saw. Steela’s almost quivering with rage and grief. Dalla’s never been more conscious of her nose in years. 

 

Saw coughs from inside the briefing room.

 

“Want me to take the bannerman or the other brother?” She asks when Steela doesn't reply to it. 

 

“You think you can handle Saw?” A smirk plays on Steela’s lips. 

 

Not really. “I don't think he can yell louder than storm winds.” 

 

Steela doesn't seem so sure. “How loud are northern storms?”

 

…

 

Saw Gerrera is not louder than a northern storm, though he looks like he'd rather face one than her when she walks through the door. 

 

Dalla’s bracing herself for a gale-force and kicking herself that she even asked Steela which man she wanted to talk to. She’s probably making moon eyes at Lux right now while Dalla’s stuck with Saw. 

 

Saw looks over his shoulder, the rest of him hidden behind a chair, and snorts when she comes in. “Oh, it's you.”

 

“Steela sent me to talk to you.”

 

“She did?” Saw dares her to say anything else.

 

“She did. She didn't trust herself not to lose it with you.” 

 

“And she trusts you?” He snorts. “We don't even know you.”

 

“I think she figures I don't have the audacity to yell at someone I don't know.”

 

“Do you?” He challenges. 

 

“Saw, I am the captain of the  _ Maiden’s Heel.  _ I yell at people every single day, especially when they do something stupid.”

 

It's a lie, but it's the right lie. More of Saw emerges from behind the chair. 

 

“If one of my crew had done something that could have killed one of the others, I would have opened his back with the cat.” Another lie. The only time that had happened Dalla had shouted until her lungs were empty. If the poor sailor’s face was any indication, that did the trick better than any whip. But had there been a blaster involved...well, that might have ended differently. 

 

Saw spins the entire chair. 

 

“It was the  _ safety,”  _ he scoffs. “What kind of soldier doesn’t know to keep the safety on?” 

 

“Someone who never thought he was going to be in this situation,” Dalla pokes her way over to a chair next to Saw’s and sits. “He’s a lordling. Since Lux was little, he’s been groomed for the Senate. Sure, the Bonteris have military connections but more than anything they’re negotiators, even Dane.”

 

“And?” Saw goes on boredly. 

 

“Ever thought it might be useful?”

 

“How?” Saw coughs. “The only thing we got out of Lux’s diplomacy was --.” His brain-to-mouth filter snaps in at the last possible second. 

 

_ I feel so welcomed, Saw.  _ “The Bonteris are a Great House. If Lux contacts his family’s friends and bannermen you might be able to rally them to your side.” 

 

“Rallying.” Saw rolls his eyes. “We tried that already. Sent Lux to go work on my uncle after he wouldn’t listen to me and Steela. Didn’t work.” 

 

“Who’s your uncle?” 

 

“Bremon Kira.” 

 

Silence. 

 

“Bremon  _ Kira?”   _ Dalla repeats in disbelief. “Like, Beast-rider Kira? Probable-heir-to-the-throne Kira?” 

 

“Flies-around-on-Frayl-all-day-Kira,” Saw confirms. 

 

Dalla does not have the foggiest what a Frayl is, but she plows through it. “If Bremon Kira declares for you --.” 

 

“Then all the Beast Rider clans will help us. Yep, figured that out already. Too bad we can’t get the old man to sign on!” He stands and kicks some imagined dust bunny on the floor.

 

Okay, back to square one. “Is there any chance he might agree if you try again?”

 

Saw stops his tirade and looks at her. 

 

“That’s why we have you.” 

 

Bremon Kira will hear her last name and slam the door in her face. “That’s not going to work. House Kira and House --.” 

 

“Not for that,” Saw interrupts. “If we don’t have the Beast Riders, we need the North. And since nobody knows where you are and you can’t contact them,” his tone lets her know she doesn’t believe she can’t do that. “We don’t even have that. All we have are a senator and a sailor.” 

 

He doesn’t even sound angry, a first for as long as she’s been here. He just sounds done, and done is the worst thing he can be. Not with all the Jedi but Ahsoka gone, not with the rebellion kicking up, and not with their enemies willing to escalate and in possession of a droid army.   

 

“You’re in the great game now,” she says. “Whether you like it or not, whether you like Lux and I or not, you need somebody who knows how to play and gods know Lux plays better than me.” 

 

“Politics have failed us.” 

 

“Politics are standing here in the room with you.” 

 

Saw glares at her, his old attitude back. 

 

“My father declared for the rebels. We might not be able to voice it publicly right now but you do have our support.” She says icily. “I have access to the Hold accounts if you need them in an emergency. That’s the best I can do.” 

 

“You’d better hope it’s enough.” 

 

“I know what happens when you lose the game,” she snaps. “If we do, I am going to feel it for the rest of my life.” 

 

“At least you’ll still be alive,” Saw replies. “I can’t say that much for Steela.”

 

…

 

After Saw drops that gem Dalla retreats into the hallway to find Steela already there. 

 

“So that didn’t go well?” she asks humorlessly. 

 

“There’s something going on with him,” Steela admits. “Lux might forget the finer points of combat things, yes, but a safety? That’s not like him at all.” 

 

If you lived in a house with Dane Bonteri surrounded by the military then yes, that’s not normal at all. And if Dalla’s learned one thing from Marlon, it’s that when people don’t act like themselves, they’re hiding something. “I’m going to go talk to him. Want to take Saw?” 

 

“It’s probably going to be more effective,” Steela admits and walks past Dalla into the briefing room. “Saw! What was that for?” 

 

“What was what for?” 

 

In keeping with Steela’s good-cop-bad-cop tactic, Dalla shoves open the door to Lux’s room and cuts straight to the chase. “What are you hiding?” 

 

“Hiding?” Lux asks incredulously and with the worst sabaac face Dalla’s seen in her life.  

 

She comes up with the first questions she can think of: “Are you working for someone else?”

 

“What?”

 

“Are you trying to contact someone? Do you have a secret banner oath?”

 

This time Lux looks downright offended. “Why would you even say that?” 

 

So “secret banner oath” is the closest guess. “Something’s clearly going on. Steela’s noticed it too, and it's only a matter of time before Saw does. It's something about banners.” Time to give voice to the worst possible option. “Do you have an old pact with the Rashes?”

 

Lux spins around, his hands clenched in fists. “Of course I don't have a pact with the Rashes! They've had it out for my family since before I was born. And clearly I’m honoring a pact with their enemies so --.”

 

“Okay, okay,” she holds up her hands in mock surrender. “No Rash pact, got it. When we were watching your inheritance we saw some transactions in weird places. Is someone after you?”

 

He shakes his head. “No one from there.”

 

Dalla doesn't ask where there is. “But maybe someone from here?” She's getting warmer. Lux looks like he wants to throw up. “Lux, I know we don't know each other very well but I'm your bannerman. You can tell me if something’s going on.”

 

Lux slides down the wall and sits on a crate. 

 

“I'm the heir to the throne.”

 

Dalla blinks. “You're  _ what?”  _

 

“My mother’s birth house was Skelari,” he explains. “King Dendup and my grandfather the Baron were cousins, and since the king doesn’t have any children or siblings he was going to name my mother the heir. Grandfather told him not to, that she was busy with her political career. But still, when Dendup dies…” 

 

Her arms fall to her sides like noodles. “That leaves you as the last person with royal blood.” If Bremon Kira won’t take the crown, inheritance law sends it straight to Lux’s head. She quickly makes sure the door’s closed. “Lux, does anyone else know?”  

 

“You think I want Rash to know?” he squabbles and then sinks against the wall. “No. You’re the only one and that’s just because I know you won’t tell the authorities.” 

 

Even going near a royal agent signs her marriage license so he’s right there. “I won’t,” she agrees. “Nobody else knows? Not even Steela?” Surely he told Steela; it seems like these two tell each other everything. 

 

He shakes his head. “I didn’t find out until I was studying genealogy looking for someone we could declare for in case something happened to King Dendup. And then I saw it was --.” His face turns the color of tallow and he shoves his head between his knees. 

 

Dalla cautiously lays a hand on his back. “We’ll give you our protection if you ask it. If you want me to hide you back at the Hold or with House Harkon, I could arrange it by the end of the day.” 

 

“I can’t run,” He sighs. “I have to face up to this. No king would run.” 

 

“But you don’t want to be king. No one ever told you that someday the royal palace would be yours and you would rule Onderon.” 

 

“I just wanted to be senator!” His eyes dance like a trapped animal’s. “That’s all I ever wanted. And then one day I’m staring down at a family tree and this book is telling me I’m going to be the king. You can’t imagine what that’s like! It’s like --” 

 

“Like someone holocalling your family and telling you you’re going to be the queen?” 

 

Lux stops. 

 

“Neither one of us wants the throne. If we get Bremon Kira on our side, then he could maybe --.” 

 

“He’s not going to,” Lux says hollowly. “He’s already told us he wants no part in this war or to sit on the throne.” 

 

Dalla sits down next to him. 

 

“I’ll help you,” she promises. “Whatever it is, whether it’s the war or Rash or Saw being Saw or this, I’ll help any way I can. Just say the word.” 

 

“I appreciate that.” He straightens up, no longer worried about passing out. “I just hope I won’t be showing my appreciation from the royal palace.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading, and feel free to come talk with DK and myself in the forum!


	16. Let it Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of insight into the beliefs and practices of the beast rider culture, for those who have respect enough to put the effort into learning about such things.

Shara wore her hair long and loose as was the tradition for female next of kin during the mourning period among the beast riders. The wind whipped it around her face, partially obscuring from her view the man who was escorting her. That was fine with her. She didn't really want to see her husband anyway. 

 

To be fair, Sanjay had been a perfect gentleman since he had arrived at the Bonteris’ that morning. He had offered her the necklace again but Shara had the convenient excuse that beast riders didn't wear jewelry while they were mourning. He hid the thing quickly away in his pocket so as not to cause offense.

 

She had forgotten how he could be almost charming when he wanted to be, when his mother wasn't around. Perhaps that was the whole point, an attempt to win her back without Mother Rash there to remind her why she wanted to leave in the first place. 

 

They walked quietly in procession through the garden of tombs, the houses where the dead rested. She remembered when she was little, taking this walk with Father beside her. Mother was in the box that they followed that day. And in other boxes were other victims of the great sickness, the Dalgos Flu. Bremon had followed the boxes containing both of his parents, his uncle marching sedately beside him, towards the big House Kira tomb. 

 

She remembered the young boy's face, void of emotion. She'd only learned later that Brem had spent the duration of the sickness quarantined on Dxun. While he was there, some sort of prophecy was said over him. He'd lost his parents and learned of the fate of his future child in a span of a few days and he was only a small child himself.

 

Shara couldn't help searching the crowd of mourners for him now. She had no idea if he'd even been told of her father's death. If even Melaana couldn't convince Brem to carry a comm link, it was hardly likely that he'd started carrying one in her absence. Shara just wished she could speak to him.

 

Then she heard a familiar cry. She looked up and saw Frayl the Ruping circling above. She sobbed and tears blurred her vision. He had come after all. It had been silly for her to look for him on the ground.

 

Beside her Sanjay gripped her hand a little tighter. She knew that he was also aware of the identity of the beast rider in the sky above them. His whispered comment however, surprised her. “It was good of him to come to say goodbye to your father. They knew each other didn't they?”

 

She froze for a moment in their procession and looked up at him. “Yes. My father was one of those who vowed to help care for him after his parents died.” She told him. 

 

Sanjay had never asked about her relationship with Bremon. She'd told him that Brem was like a brother when they were growing up, in response to his accusations that there was something more intimate going on between them, but he'd never seemed interested in hearing the truth.

 

He nodded now, respectfully, as he led her to continue up the path.

 

She looked ahead again towards the box that contained her father's remains. She couldn't say that it actually contained the man he had been. She had seen the light go out of his eyes after the machines keeping him alive had been turned off. That broken empty body was not him, not really. 

 

Geb Gerrera was one of the men carrying the casket. As was Dane even though his family wasn't of the beast rider clans. Also the militiaman, Tandin. She remembered now he was some sort of a distant cousin on her mother's side. 

 

Behind her somewhere in the procession was Edda Gerrera. Shara could hear her singing the funeral song of their people. Shara knew the words but she couldn't have made the sounds come from her throat without breaking down today. 

 

Listening closer she heard little Saw singing along with his mother. She was teaching him their culture, how they said goodbye. 

 

Fresh tears streamed down Shara's cheeks, but these weren't for her father. She'd always hoped that she might teach the old songs to her own children the way her mother and father had taught her. 

 

She glanced up at Sanjay. His eyes were full of concern for her, the Rash eyes, Melaana's eyes, his mother's eyes. Before she had gone to live in the Rash estate she had hoped that maybe her children might have those eyes. After seeing the contempt directed at her for so many months from those eyes, however, looking into them now made her shiver. 

 

“Are you well?” Sanjay asked. “Do you feel faint?”

 

She turned her gaze forward, away from those eyes. “No I- I'm fine.”

 

Eventually the solemn procession reached the tomb that was etched with the name Rupingwood in the old runes. The pallbearers slid the casket into its niche and then they melted back into the crowd of mourners. Now was the time for Shara as the last living relative to step forward alone and close her father off from the living world for his eternal rest. 

 

But as she stepped forward she wasn't alone. Sanjay, whether because he didn't understand the custom or because he had sworn not to leave her side, seemed to be stuck to her like glue. 

 

“You don't…” she started to say to him softly.

 

He squeezed her hand. “I told you I would stand by you always,” he whispered. 

 

There were other voices whispering as well. It was unheard of for her not to approach the tomb alone but she couldn't stand here and argue with him. Why couldn't he have put some thought into what was going to happen today? A little research? Just asking someone what might be expected? 

 

_ When Shara had started seeing Sanjay, and especially when they started discussing her becoming part of his family, she had found out as much about him and his family and about the rank and file of the society she was about to enter, as she could. The Rash family had been around for ages, though always on a lower rung of society than they had managed to climb in the last century. They were supporters of King Ommin and Queen Amanoa during the beast wars, whereas the Rupingwoods had always supported House Kira. But that was to be expected. And, Shara had thought, at the time she had read it, that it sounded a bit like the Bardic tragedy of the star-crossed lovers. She had hoped that she and Sanjay might have a happier ending like the real life Oron and Galia.  _

 

_ His mother's past was more mysterious. Her family name had been scrubbed out of all of the documents Shara could locate. She had seemingly come out of nowhere and became the Lady of a great house. Not that Shara cared about titles and such but she had actually admired the woman. She had told Sanjay so, that is before she gotten to know his mother. Every bit of the tenacity that had helped Sanda rise, had been set on keeping Shara down. _

 

Well, Shara couldn't explain the custom to Sanjay now. The last lonely walk was supposed to be a silent one. The surviving next of kin were supposed to leave their worries and hopes and fears for the departed at the tomb as they no longer had need of them. With her husband walking along side her, Shara realized that she was also leaving behind her worries and hopes and fears for her marriage. In a way that was a great weight lifted off her shoulders. 

 

Then she heard something. At first she thought it was in her own head. It was the tune to the old beast rider song,  _ the Child loves his father _ . But it wasn't in her own head and anyone from the clans who knew that song would know that this time wasn't appropriate for such a thing. She turned her head with horror and looked at Sanjay. He was humming the tune, quietly, solemnly, but he couldn't know how much it hurt her to hear it right now on top of everything else.

 

“Stop it,” she hissed at him.

 

He whispered back to her, “I thought it was one of your favorites. You sang it to me when… it was the happiest I've ever seen you. I only thought to comfort you by it.”

 

“Just stop. Stop humming. Stop talking. It isn't the time or the place.” She hurried on towards the tomb. It had been her hope to one day teach that song to her children to sing to their father, as her mother had taught it to her. Now it didn't matter. She would never give a child to the Rash family and even if she should someday marry again and by some miracle get pregnant, she would never sing that song again. She would leave that song here at the tomb. It was as dead to her as the father she had sung it to. 

 

Shara placed her hand on her mother's name engraved in the stone. She had given a lot of thought as to what she would say to her parents and ancestors when she reached this point.

 

But then Sanjay put a hand on her shoulder and he was speaking again, “I'm sorry, Shara. I didn't know. I didn't realize…” 

 

“Just go, please!”

 

Finally he seemed to get the point. He nodded and took a few steps back. But the moment had already been ruined. 

 

The tears in her eyes now were tears of anger. She wanted to curse and scream. She had completely forgotten everything she planned to say. 

 

Shara traced the letters with her fingers that spelled out 'Hadassa Cornel Rupingwood’. “Mother, I only wanted what you and Father had. How could I have gotten it so dreadfully wrong?” Then she traced the letters of her father's name. They had been etched at the same time as her mother's in preparation for this day. Only the date was new. She was glad they were back together now. 

 

“Father, you said I should start over up north. I am going to try.” She pressed the mechanism to shut the panel over the niche where her father's body was laid. “I leave my pain and worry behind these stones and go back to the living with hope for the future.” 

 

She looked at the other names, her grandparents, her great grandparents, but Father would be the last of his name to rest here. She had never asked where the Rash family laid their dead. 

 

She wondered what the Blackwells did to honor the passing of a loved one. Father had told her that she could be baptized into their religion if she chose. If it brought her peace, he had said. On a sudden impulse Shara laid her thumb to her lips as she had seen Lana do when she prayed and then raised her hand palm out and whispered, “In the light of the salt gods.” A sense of calm did settle over her and with it a memory of Jamos holding his niece and telling her that he would be waiting for her. 

 

Then a hand came to rest on her shoulder and she jumped in surprise.

 

“Shara, I am sorry.” Sanjay said softly. “I know I've mucked everything up. I know there's a way you wanted to go about things today and I've done it all wrong. Please forgive me.”

 

“I do forgive you, Sanjay.” The words came surprisingly easily to her. She didn't want to argue with him here but it wasn't just that. She was so tired of letting him control her happiness. From this moment he and his mother would no longer rule over her emotions.

 

“We were friends once, weren't we?” He asked, cautiously. 

 

She nodded. “We were.”

 

“Then,” he screwed up his face as if it were difficult for him to express. “I'll let you go. But please…” he added and physically held on to her hands to keep her with him a little longer. “Have dinner with me? No strings attached, I - I promise. I know you have things to attend to tonight and tomorrow but the next day, have dinner with me and… and then I'll arrange for … our marriage to be…” he choked on the words.

 

“Oh Sanjay, thank you!” she barely refrained from hugging him.

 

He smiled sadly at her. “I'll let you finish.” He stepped back from the tomb again giving her space.

 

Shara laid both her hands and her forehead against the cool stones. “Father, it's going to be fine. I'm going to be fine. Rest easy with Mother. I love you.”

 

…

 

The sweet fragrance of the massive bouquet met Shara at the front door of the Bonteris’ home before she had even made her way to the sitting room to see the riot of colorful blossoms that Jamos had ordered to be delivered for her. 

 

Dane wondered how the delivery droid had managed to get them through the doorway. Marlon wondered how much lighter the Blackwell bank account was likely to be after the purchase of such a quantity of flora. 

 

Shara paused a moment from enjoying the heady aroma to assure him that it couldn't have been that much. “They're all locally grown. My mother had a lot of these in her garden when I was a little girl. Aren't they beautiful? It was so sweet of him to think of this. Please don't be angry with him. He was only trying to do something nice for me.”

 

“He's just teasing.” Lana gave her husband a playful swat. “What he means is that it would have cost a fortune to ship something like this up to the Hold. Jamos probably couldn't help but go overboard at the local price.”

 

“Can I comm him and tell him thank you?” Shara turned to Mina who was attempting to keep Lux from grabbing at the flowers and putting them in his mouth.

 

“Yes of course.” Mina smiled. “Tell him we're all enjoying your beautiful gift.”

 

Shara rushed to the comm room and as soon as his image appeared over the table (it didn't take long, as if he'd been waiting to hear from her) she immediately began to speak. “They're beautiful! Thank you so much!”

 

A warm grin spread over Jamos’s face but his eyes still held concern for the sober goings on of the day. “I'm so glad you like them. I just wanted you to have something bright and alive today.”

 

“It was exactly the right thing. So much though. You didn't have to…”

 

“I wanted to! I couldn't be there with you to make the procession to the tomb, stand and wait for you while you made the last lonely walk to the houses of the dead.”

 

“You… you knew about that? I didn't think you followed the same traditions in the North.”

 

“Well, no.” He admitted. “We practice burial at sea. We give our loved ones back to the salt gods. But I knew that's not what you'd be doing today… I wanted to know more about what you believe in. So I looked it up.”

 

Shara's hand flew in front of her mouth to prevent herself from crying out and a few tears spilled past her eyelashes. 

 

“I'm sorry,” said Jamos stepping forward as if he wanted to reach for her. “I'm sorry if that was weird or if I made you uncomfortable by saying…”

 

“No,” she answered. “That's not it at all. What you did was very sweet. You put in a lot more effort than someone I could mention.” Her annoyance at Sanjay's lack of consideration was plain in her tone. She only hoped that Jamos knew it wasn't directed at him.

 

He scowled. He knew. He was restraining himself from speaking his mind on the subject of her husband. She could tell. 

 

“But in spite of everything,” he said after a moment. “It was a good service? You were able to say your goodbyes?”

 

“Yes.” She assured him. “I heard my friend Edda sing the funeral song. She was teaching it to her boy, Saw. And my friend Bremon flew over. I wasn't able to speak to him but it was good to know that he came.”

 

“You said he was like your brother. He would want to be there to honor your father. I'm sorry you didn't get to at least say hello.”

 

It was such a contrast. Sure, Sanjay hadn't minded seeing Brem show his respect from a klick above the proceedings. It would have been a completely different story if he had landed and offered his condolences. Gods forbid Brem actually give her a hug. 

 

But she didn't see any of that jealousy in Jamos. And she was studying him rather intently, she realized. He was gazing at her as well. 

 

Shara blushed and looked down at her clasped hands. Then she said quietly but with an undercurrent of unconcealable excitement, “He agreed to the annulment.”

 

“He - you're serious? When?”

 

“Day after tomorrow.” She smiled back up at him. “I still have to settle some of my father's business affairs, and pack, and…”

 

“But day after tomorrow!” He grinned. “And a couple of days sailing. You could be home by the end of the week!”

 

“Home.” She repeated quietly.

 

Maybe he heard the bittersweet note in her voice or maybe he saw it in her holoimage. “I won't be able to get you flowers everyday when you're up here.”

 

“Your brother said it was rather expensive to have them shipped.”

 

He was working up to saying something more but she didn't realize it until she had already spoken herself. “Don't you have any sort of greenhouses in the North?”

 

“What's a green house?” He asked, amused, and allowed her to continue to direct the conversation.

 

She wondered a moment what he was going to say and then answered, “Well, it isn't really green. It's a sort of a building made of transparasteel. It lets sunlight and heat in and then keeps it from escaping back into the atmosphere. So, you can grow things there all year round.”

 

“So you could have flowers everyday.” He grinned.

 

She laughed. “Not only flowers, but fruits and vegetables and grain crops even, I suppose, if you had enough space.”

 

He was interested now, not just in humoring her but in the actual idea. “You mean we could have fresh produce in the middle of the winter?”

 

Shara nodded. “It would take a little time to get it up and running, to get seedlings started and trees to take root. It might be a few seasons before we could expect any sort of a decent harvest…”

 

“I'll build it for you.” He startled her out of her planning.

 

“Jamos, I…”

 

He smirked again, just as she was about to become too serious. “I probably won't have it done by the time you get here at the end of the week. I'll have to do some research, put some thought into it. But we'll do this, you and me! We'll make the Hold self sustainable!”

 

She laughed at his pride and confidence. And then reminded him. “Oh! But I do want to go on another fishing trip! You promised!”

 

“Of course! You won't even set foot on the dock. I'll swing you right over from my brother's ship to the Polaris and we'll be on our way!”

 

“I can't wait.” Shara told him sincerely.

 

They stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds more and then he made a motion with his hands as if to shoo her away. “Well, go on. Get your business settling and packing and marriage annulling done so you can sail home.”

 

She laughed. “I will.”

 

“I'll see you soon.”

 

She nodded and gave a little sigh. “Alright.”

 

… 

 

As her image faded from above the comm table, Jamos swallowed hard. Salt gods damn him, but he wanted that woman. He didn't only want her physically, although there was that. Let his thoughts paddle down that stream, however, and he’d need to throw himself in the cold northern sea. No, he wanted more. He wanted to make a life with her. He couldn't imagine any other course he would ever want to chart if she wasn't by his side. 

 

He stroked his beard as he thought. They would build that greenhouse thing she was talking about. What an inspired idea! She was brilliant! And she would sail with him as his beast master on any voyage he would take in the foreseeable future. 

 

There was one other thing he wanted to do for her now though and there wasn't much time if she would be here by the end of the week. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, mind made up. Then he left the comm room and marched purposefully down the hall, calling out to his niece's nurse. “Pack Dalla's things! We’re going to take her out on a little excursion!”

 

The woman came briskly out of the baby's room. “Are you sure that's a good idea, Captain Jamos? She's just gotten over her cold and what will the Lord and Lady say?”

 

“We're not going to tell them.” He grinned. “Besides it's not a full deep sea voyage I'm thinking of, just a little day trip up to Harkon Hall. We'll be back long before Marlon and Lana are anywhere near the Hold.”

 

He watched with a little grin as the nurse went with a shake of her head to do her acting lord’s command. Then he returned to the comm room and activated the table with a saved ID. He fidgeted impatiently while he waited for an answer. 

 

Soon but not soon enough for Jamos, the image of Marlon’s best and oldest friend (other than the brothers themselves) materialized over the table. 

 

“Jamos!” Glover Harkon laughed. “That brother of yours still off sampling the sunnier climes? Everything’s well at the Hold, I presume?” 

 

“Aye, all is well. I have it on good authority that they could be back by the end of the week.” 

 

“Good. Good. I’m sure Lana will be glad to be reunited with her daughter. And you have a beast master coming on the return voyage, am I correct?” his eyes twinkled with amusement. 

 

“I do.” Jamos wondered how much of the story had gotten around the northern houses. Not that he particularly minded as long as they were all saying good things about Shara. He wouldn’t have anyone speak ill of her. “Actually that’s the reason I commed. Please tell me I’m not imagining I heard that there was a litter of norcog pups up at your place not long ago?”

 

“There was.” Glover concurred. “They’re out of the pouch, they’ve opened their eyes, and they’re actually ready to leave their mother. You weren’t thinking of picking one up for your niece before her parents can object to having a pet?”

 

“Hey that’s not a bad idea.” Jamos smirked. “But no. This would be for someone else. She’s just lost her father and has to leave behind some pets of her own…”

 

“You think she’s ready for a norcog? You know they start out small but it’ll be almost as big as a dalgos before it’s done growing.”

 

“She can handle herself around a dalgos.” Jamos remembered the holo and how he’d seen her in action with his own eyes leading the Brylks. “Just wait till you meet her.” 

 

Lord Harkon couldn’t help but see that the younger man was in love. “Well, if that’s the case…”

 

“I’d like to come, and pick one out so I can give it to her when she arrives.”’ Jamos interrupted him. 

 

“You’re not thinking of leaving Dalla at the Hold while you…” Glover started to ask knowing that his friend would never approve.

 

“Nah, I’ll bring her with me. Adria hasn’t seen her yet, has she? I doubt your good lady wife would forgive me if I didn’t introduce her to the newest Blackwell.” 

 

Glover shook his head. “Well it's your neck. Shall we expect you for dinner tomorrow?” 


	17. Front Runners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple mission leads to a run-in with a potential threat or a potential ally. Werda Flint is the original character of DuchessKenobi and previously appeared in her story Some Say I Got Devil. Thank you for letting me bring her into the Polaris mix. - LS

“A power generator.” Ahsoka repeats when Lux pitches the idea. “You want to destroy a power generator.” 

 

“Not just any generator, the main one. It feeds substations across the city,” Lux explains. “If we take out the central generator, then the whole city goes dark.” 

 

“And droids still need to recharge every few days,” Ahsoka lights up. “If they don’t have a source of power, they’ll be brought to a standstill.” 

 

Steela’s eyes grow huge. “If we did that --.” 

 

“Then the droids aren’t a problem anymore,” Dalla implores. “And if there’s no power, then Rash’s security system at the palace also goes dark.” She almost shakes with anticipation. Carrying out Kason’s rescue while the power is out is their best bet. Militiamen and physical locks must only make up a tiny percentage of the system as a whole, and she’s faced worse odds. “I say we take this thing out, then go over to the palace while they’re off-guard --.” 

 

“We’re not taking you with us on the point team,” Lux interrupts. “There are too many security patrols and holocams to risk it.”

 

“I don't like its proximity to the palace either,” Steela admits. “The greater distance we have between you and King Rash, the better.” 

 

Too bad. Dalla’s hoping to get very close to Sanjay Rash. Face-punching close. “It’s our best chance to rescue his prisoners.” 

 

“You mean your cousin,” Saw says dryly. 

 

She glares at him. “And the king.”

 

“I don’t recommend that,” Ahsoka speaks up. “At this point you’re best suited for small, quick strikes, not for something as large-scale and extended like breaking into the Royal Palace.” 

 

Well there goes her other shot.  _ Thanks, Ahsoka.  _

 

“You need to strike this facility,” the Jedi continues. “And then go straight back to base. Let the people think about it for a while before you attempt something else.”

 

“Doesn’t that also give Rash time to think about it?” 

 

Steela doesn’t give Ahsoka a chance to answer. “Lux, Saw, and I are going with Ahsoka to carry out the strike on the generator. Hutch, run tech support back here. Maybe mess with their systems so they’ll devote more units to the interior?” 

 

Hutch, a young man with a bandanna wrapped around the lower half of his face, cracks his knuckles. “Did you say tech support?” 

 

“Don’t get carried away,” Saw warns. 

 

“Hero, take three others and circle around the back,” Steela says. “Take care of any patrols that look like they’re going to get dangerous. We’re probably going to need backup.” 

 

Hero gives a thumbs-up. 

 

“Dono and Dalla, we need a distraction.” 

 

Dalla perks up. “Distraction?” 

 

Steela nods. “You said something about sending a burning boat down the canal. Well, I adapted it a little. Dono, do we still have a speeder?” 

 

“We have the one that works and the one that sounds like a dying fambaa.”

 

“Take the fambaa one and load it with droid poppers and EMP disruptors.” 

 

Dalla catches on the same time Dono does. “We’re going to load this thing with poppers and send it into the droids?” Dono asks excitedly. Dalla has to admit, that's pretty impressive. 

 

“We are,” Steela confirms. “I'll contact you with the time and location, but get the speeder loaded before then.” They nod and start out the door. “And Dalla!”

 

Dalla turns back. “Yes?”

 

“Put a hat or something on. The last thing we need is Rash getting you on a security feed.”

 

“Aye. I'll find something,” she promises and starts thinking of whose hat she can borrow.

 

“With your fashion track record?” Dono shakes her head. “Better run it by me first.”

 

…

 

“You know, I can't get over how well that scarf goes with that shirt.”

 

Dalla drops another box of droid poppers into the back of the speeder. “They're both yours. Of course they go well together.” She adjusts the scarf around her head again. 

 

“I know that already. Thank gods we have similar skin tone, or that would be a disaster.” 

 

Dalla wouldn't care much if the colors clashed with her skin, but if what she has on now makes Dono happy then she'll go with it. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. It's nice and airy.” And it is. Dono’s scarf is opaque opaque to hide her features, but it's light enough she can still breathe through it without issues. Perfect for the boiling hot southern summer. 

 

“Keep it as long as you need it,” Dono shrugs and goes back to loading droid poppers. “I’ll take it back when we’re done here.” 

 

Dalla makes a mental note to wash both the scarf and the shirt before she returns them. “Do you think these are enough poppers?” Both the cargo area and the backseat are filled with boxes. 

 

“I think so,” Dono jumps into the driver’s seat. “Ready to go?” 

 

Dalla secures the scarf over her mouth and nose, then over the top of her head to hide her hair. “Ready,” she agrees and sits in the passenger’s. 

 

Dono pulls her helmet down further over her eyes and starts the engine, which admittedly does sound like a dying fambaa. 

 

“What did Steela say the plan was?” Dalla whispers once Dono’s situated herself in the traffic flow. There’s no way anyone can hear her over the engine. 

 

“Something about bring the speeder over by the power generator, leave it in the middle of the road and set it off when the droids come near it,” Dono haphazardly weaves through the lanes of traffic and Dalla grabs her armrests. She smirks. “Do you --?” 

 

“Drive? No.”

 

“Oh,” She weaves again, looking suspiciously like she’s cutting someone off in traffic. “So, here are my thoughts with this. We set this thing off, we help them take care of whatever patrols come with it, and then we get out of there.”  

 

“Agreed,” Dalla forces herself to relax into her seat and stop white-knuckling the armrests. “Do we hang around afterward in case they need us?” 

 

“It’s going to take us awhile to walk back to base,” Dono reasons. “And Steela doesn’t like taking risks where you’re concerned.”  

 

Not when she's holding out for the northern navy. Dalla would rather not show everyone what a poor shot she is anyway. She's not sure how well one can dismantle droids with a knife. “Where are we supposed to meet them?” 

 

“Power generator’s about ten minutes away, traffic permitting. Steela told us to meet her two blocks south of it, so we won’t be on the road long.” She pats the speeder’s dashboard. “Come on, dying fambaa speeder. You only have to get us to the power generator.” 

 

Neither one of them are entirely sure the speeder’s actually going to make it that far, but they cross their fingers. Dalla makes sure the tarp they threw over the droid poppers is still anchored. 

 

“Yeah, don’t let that come off!” Dono shouts behind them as she slides through yet another intersection. “That would be bad.” 

 

It would be so bad neither of them can verbalize it so Dalla anchors it down with her hand. 

 

Dono turns off the main road and onto a less populated one where she can drive without fear of crashing into someone. “Count the traffic issues over,” she says, taking her eyes off the road and winking at Dalla. “See, driving’s easier than it --.” 

 

_ “Waste receptacle!”  _

 

Dono swerves onto the road just in time to miss a waste receptacle. 

 

_ That did wonders for my confidence about driving, Dono. _

 

The older girl smiles guiltily. “It’s only a few more minutes from here. Mind grabbing a map from the storage box?”  

 

…

 

“Okay, where exactly do I go from here?” 

 

Dalla looks down at the map one more time. “At the next intersection, veer --.” 

 

“I don’t know port or starboard from a bantha burger!” Dono shrieks before she can even finish the direction. 

 

She’s a little surprised Dono hasn’t memorized port and starboard simply from the amount of times Dalla’s messed up and said them. Looking at the map has her mentally back on the deck of  _ Maiden’s Heel.  _  “Go left,” she says and rolls her eyes.  

 

Dono turns left. “Look at the alley on your  _ starboard,” _ she says with a wicked grin. “Is that Steela?” 

 

_ You little -- you do know nautical directions!  _ She bites back the retort and focuses on the alley and a shadowy blob that looks an awful lot like the back of Steela’s head. When they get closer she can tell for sure. “It is.” 

 

“And just in time, too,” Dono mumbles under her breath. “The famabaa’s going into its death throes.” 

 

As they pull into the middle of the street Dalla rolls the tarp back and throws it on the floor at her feet. Dono parks the speeder but leaves it idling and climbs out of her seat. 

 

“Do you have the detonator?” She really doesn’t want to have to go back and get it. 

 

Dono holds it up as proof and they sprint over to the alley across from Steela’s. Hero and a few of her friends crouch in the shadows, waiting. 

 

“Aren’t you leaving?” she whispers. 

 

Dalla shakes her head. “Not until we’re done with the distraction. Why is Steela here for it?” 

 

“This isn’t a distraction,” Hero says woefully. “We’re tank bait.” 

 

Dono’s eyes bulge out. “What?” 

 

“They didn’t tell them?” somebody asks. 

 

“Apparently not,” Hero sighs. “They’re going to attack a patrol and hope the Separatists call a tank for backup. Then they’re going to steal the tank.” 

 

Dono shakes her head. “Oh, we are  _ so  _ not going to be around when they do that.” 

 

The sound of mechanical footsteps approaches. 

 

“You’re gonna be around for the first part,” one of the others clicks the safety off his blaster. 

 

Dalla swallows hard and unholsters her pistol. She checks to make sure she remembered to charge it -- because that would be bad -- and points it to the ground. 

 

The droid patrol rounds the corner and comes upon the idling speeder, moving around both sides of it. Saw gives a signal from across the street. 

 

“Dono, please tell me you have the detonator,” Hero hisses. 

 

“Why does everyone think I don’t have the detonator?” Dono groans, and activates it. The speeder’s force-awful noise gives way to the dull ring of an EMP pulse. 

 

Saw gives a second signal and they charge out from the alley, blasters blazing. 

 

Dalla’s planning on sticking close to Dono, but Dono doesn’t leave that option. She somersaults into the fray while shooting, expertly dodging blaster bolts all the way. 

 

“Holy --.” 

 

“Showoff,” Hero mutters and blasts one of the droids. Dalla takes care of its compatriot with a few shots. 

 

“Let’s go!” Saw yells and dives into a formation of Super Battle Droids, leaving a droid popper in their midst as he slides by. The pulse deactivates them immediately.

 

Dalla and Hero run over to help him blast the last platoon of battle droids, leaving only one. Steela trains her rifle on it. 

 

“Patrol 11A to Central,” it says, motoring away as quickly as its legs can take it. “We’ve been ambushed by terrorists and need reinforcement!”

 

Steela shoots it in the head, dead center. 

 

“Nice shot!”  _ If Steela ever gets tired of living in Iziz, she’d have to trouble getting work as a harpoonist. _

 

Ahsoka emerges from the alley’s shadows. “Let’s hope they send a tank.” 

 

“And we are out of here!” Dono announces, grabbing Dalla. “Good luck, Tank Thieves. But Dalla and I will not be with you for --.” 

 

“Hear that?” Ahsoka interrupts, holding up a hand to silence Dono. “They’ve sent destroyers. Move!” 

 

“Get back to base and tell Hutch what’s going on!” Steela yells, running for cover along with Ahsoka. “Make him do something over here so they’ll send a tank!” 

 

“Aye, Captain!” Dalla yells mostly out of habit and then joins Dono in the alley. 

 

“Thank the lord,” Dono pants. “I hate destroyers. If Hutch can find a way to take care of them from a distance, I’m all for it.” 

 

“He’s still at base?” How long will it take to run back to base if it took almost ten minutes to weave through the traffic to get here? She doesn’t like the calculations she comes up with. “Do they have time like that?” 

 

“I don’t know.” She gets an idea. “We could comm him but I don’t know how secure it is and I don’t want to tie up his line if someone else needs him.” 

 

The sound of blasterfire in the distance ceases after another EMP pulse sound. Both of their blood pressures decrease dramatically. 

 

“At least it’s not destroyers.” Dono turns down an alleyway. “I don’t want to take the main road back. Too many witnesses.” 

 

Dalla checks her scarf. Thank the salt gods, it’s still in place. “Do you think they got us on the feeds?” 

 

“They had to have. I don’t think they got faces, but they’ll track the speeder and I don’t want to give them any more clues than they --.” 

 

“Already have?” A new voice finishes the sentence. 

 

Dono freezes. Dalla freezes. 

 

“Don’t say a word,” Dono whispers and turns around. Behind them stands a girl roughly Dalla’s age, with short red hair and a knowing smirk. 

 

“Hey, Dono.” 

 

“Didn’t know there was an entrance to the tunnels here,” Dono quips.

 

“There’s an entrance to the tunnels everywhere.” 

 

“What do you want, Werda?” 

 

Werda ignores her and turns her attention to Dalla. “Who’s this?” 

 

“My sister,” Dono lies, discreetly elbowing Dalla into silence. 

 

“Your sister’s a Flint?” 

 

Dalla gives Dono a sideways look. How in the salt gods’ names does Werda know she's a Flint?

 

“Don’t be silly.” Dono gestures to Werda. “Sis, meet Werda Flint, resident catacomb rat. She practically lives in the tunnels and pops up into the sunlight wherever she pleases.”

 

Dalla nods. Werda must be from the southern branch of her mother’s clan, the one that stayed south with Kira during the Beast Wars. They're stonemasons like the northern Flints and have families of equal size, but this branch doesn't have a drop of loyalty to Blackwell -- or, really, to anyone else.

 

Werda isn't convinced. “How come your sister sailed into the marina with Flint banners?”

 

“Oh, you were in the marina?” Dono scoffs. “Why? Nothing goes on over there.”

 

“I know it's the one you guys operate out of, so when I saw a boat with Flint banners I was interested.” Werda cranes her neck as if changing her angle of view will help her see past Dalla’s scarf. “You weren't wearing a scarf when you landed. Are you northern?”

 

“You're really trying to pump my kid sister for information? What are you going to do with it, Werda? Tell your parents so they can tell their snake overlord?”

 

_ Rash loyalists.  _ Dalla’s heart beats harder. More than anything she wants to open her mouth and spin lies, but speaking would mean answering Werda’s question with a northern accent. 

 

“When am I home to tell my parents anything? I basically live in these catacombs and it’s not like they’re going to notice I’m gone. Dxun, my name is the Mando’a word for “shadow” because I have so many siblings they ran out of Onderonain names.” She goes back to Dalla. “I mean it's really clear you’re northern, nobody here would sail alone or sail that kind of ship that well. So what are you doing down here? You have to be one of my cousins, right?”

 

“Oh, so we're cousins now? That's a new one, Werda,” Dono sighs. 

 

“Isn’t your sister older than you, Dono?” Werda takes another look at Dalla. “Y’know, if you lowered your scarf you could breathe easier.” 

 

“She’s not falling for that one.” 

 

“It’s a nose! I’m not going to recognize a…” she blinks. “Nose. Oh my gods, you’re the Blackwell girl! You’re going to be the queen!” 

 

_ “Like hell I am!”  _

 

Dalla charges and tackles Werda like a smashball player, knocking both of them to the ground. Werda yanks the scarf away from Dalla’s face, though thank goodness it remains on her head. 

 

“It  _ is _ you!” she sputters and tries to squirm away. “The whole clan got the message from Grandmother up north. People said Lana Flint Blackwell was dead and her daughter was disfigured.” 

 

“I’m not disfigured enough to stop Sanjay Rash,” Dalla anchors herself on top of Werda. “Did your parents tell you I wanted to be his queen? He’s only gotten this far with this quote ‘engagement’ because he has a hostage.” She swallows hard. “He killed my best friend!” 

 

Dono appears over Dalla’s shoulder. “Werda, this isn’t looking good for you.” 

 

“You think I’m going to rat?” 

 

“Yes,” both the others say in unison. 

 

“I’m not! I’m just curious.” 

 

“Your branch of the clan is loyal to Rash,” Dalla snaps. 

 

“My parents are, but they’ll go with whoever’s in charge.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to switch banners every time I turn around. Besides, he killed your friend and he has the princeling hostage so who says he wouldn’t do that to me?” 

 

“Who says you’re going to live long enough to find out?” 

 

“Dalla, get off her,” Dono sighs. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Werda hasn’t ratted us out yet, though I’m sure she knows where our bases are. ” Dono reasons. “Also, if she tries to leg it we can catch her again. Werda, consider this a test.” 

 

Dalla reluctantly slides off Werda. “More like an interrogation. Why were you spying on us?” 

 

“I was bored.” Werda works a kink out of her shoulder. “I saw when they brought the princeling into the palace. Is he your brother?” 

 

“This is an interrogation. We ask the questions,” Dono raps out. 

 

But Werda just keeps going. “But no he couldn’t be your brother because they’re saying his mom was married to the sleemo and your mom’s a Flint. So you’re like...cousins?” 

 

“Sleemo?” Dalla repeats. That’s certainly not something she’d call her bannermen. 

 

“Oh I’m sorry, do you actually like him?” Werda asks. “Cause he’s like ancient and you’re like my age so I just figured … if my parents tried to set me up with a creep like that I’d totally do a princess of Onderon --.” If only Werda knew just how close Dalla came to having an appointment with Blackhold’s sea steps just like the character in the Bard play -- “Of course they’d have to find me first and I can be pretty hard to find when I want to be.” 

 

“I don’t like him,” Dalla confirms. “And neither does my father. As far as we’re concerned there is no engagement, but he’s not taking no for an answer. Not while he has Kason.” 

 

“Well I’d say he’s not going to have him for very long, which is kind of weird since he’s saying he’s his stepson. They’re moving the princeling.” 

 

Dalla almost chokes on her tongue and grabs Werda’s shoulders. “What?” 

 

“Didn’t you know? The guards over at the palace eat in this park I like to hang out in, they’re saying there’s a royal carriage taking the Blackwell to the Rash --.” 

 

“When? Where? Tell me now!” 

 

Werda looks at to chronometer on a wall. “Like fifteen minutes from now, near Malagan Market.”

 

Dalla spins on her heels. “Dono, how far is that? We have to go!”

 

“No!” Dono squeaks. “Remember? We have to contact Hutch about the others and the  _ you-know-what!”  _

 

The power generator. Dalla swears under her breath. “Fine. We’ll do that first, but then we have to rescue Kason. The weakest point of any operation is during transit, and we might not get another chance.” 


	18. Dinner with Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You all who don't get to see what goes on behind the scenes of this story, are really missing out. Right now LS and I have an absolutely hilarious A.U. going on and a scandalous sequel. We might have to share this stuff in the forum some day it's too great not to.
> 
>  
> 
> However, I digress. Shara promised Sanjay a final dinner and he got it and we'll just pick up the story from there. ~ DK

 

“So there really was nothing to worry about.” Shara told Mina and Lana in the guest room that evening after she had returned to the Bonteris’ home. “Sanjay was a perfect gentleman. He offered me enough wine. I don't know if that was part of his plan but I kept it well watered so it wouldn't affect me.”

 

She knew she was babbling but didn't care. The final dinner she had promised to have with Sanjay was over. Tomorrow morning they only had a few documents to sign to authenticate that their marriage had been invalid. And then she would be sailing north with the Blackwells to her new life. 

 

While she was gone, Geb and Edda had brought several trunks of items from the Rupingwoods’ home to the Bonteris’ for Shara to go through and see what she wanted to keep and take with her to Blackhold.

 

Shara laughed. “I had to visit the 'fresher a couple of times for all the water I drank.”

 

“But he didn't object to your having the droid there, holorecording the whole thing?” Mina asked as she gently folded a skirt and placed it in the trunk of the items headed north.

 

“Not at all.” Shara picked up a tunic that had once belonged to her mother. It was really too lightweight for the northern climate but she wasn't ready to part with it so she packed it anyway. “Of course it will probably be the most boring date holo ever recorded. He kissed my hand when I first arrived but other than that we just ate and talked.”

 

“Well, thank the salt gods it's over now.” Lana grinned at the baby boy in her arms and tickled him. “All over, isn't it, Lux.”

 

He giggled and clapped his hands. That was new trick he had learned just in the week they had all been staying with the Bonteris.

 

Mina smiled proudly. “You’ll be glad to get back to your little girl.” 

 

“I will.” Lana sighed. “Thank you so much for allowing me to monopolize this guy's attention while we've been here. It's made missing her not quite so bad.” 

 

“I'm sure Jamos has been taking good care of her,” said Shara with a warm glow in her cheeks. 

 

The other women laughed with her and for a moment Shara felt as she had a year ago laughing with Mel and Edda at the summer fete. Back then they had spoken of the dalgos races and the Rupings’ aerial displays. Shara had told Mel the legend of the Drexl eggs and they'd asked Edda a million questions about what it was like to be married and so close to having her second child. 

 

Mel wanted to know because Bremon had just proposed to her. And Shara had been hoping that she might be carrying her own child soon, even though she had to keep the father's identity a secret. How she had wanted to tell Melaana that they might soon be sisters. She'd been so thrilled when she found out…

 

“Shara?” The sound of Mina's voice drew Shara out of her memory.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I was just asking who this was in the painting?” Mina asked again.

 

“Oh!” Shara smiled at the framed portrait that had hung in her father's house for as long as she could remember. “It's my mother and I when I was little. There was an artist who was wandering around the grounds of the summer fete the year before my mother died. We didn't even know he painted it until all the tents were being packed away and we were getting ready to go home. The artist was going to try to sell it but Father talked him into giving it to him instead. He said our images weren't for sale, got all angry. I think he just liked the picture and wanted it for himself.” 

 

When she finished the story, she was still smiling but her cheeks were wet with tears. 

 

Mina put an arm around her shoulders. “It's beautiful! What a treasure to remember both of your parents.”

 

Shara nodded, cleared her throat, and wiped the dampness from her cheeks. “I had always imagined hanging it in a nursery some day but I didn't have the heart to take it from Father when I left home and I didn't think the Rashes would want something so ammature hanging in their estate anyway…”

 

“I can hardly wait for that piece to grace a wall somewhere in the Hold,” said Lana sincerely. “We'll have to find the perfect spot. Maybe even some day…”

 

Shara didn't let her finish. “Thank you.” Her words were choked with emotion.

 

Lux choose that moment to yawn loudly. His sleepy little eyelids fluttered closed. 

 

“It's way past his bedtime.” Mina whispered.

 

Lana pleaded, “Oh, let me hold him a little longer. He's fine here.”

 

“I wouldn't dream of trying to move him now.” Mina assured her with a wink.

 

“You know.” Shara said softly with a mischievous grin. “A Bonteri son and a Blackwell daughter, you could just sign the betrothal contract now and be done with it.” 

 

“Dane was betrothed once.” Mina laughed. “I'm so thankful it didn't take.”

 

Lana didn't take her eyes off the sleeping baby in her arms. “It worked out alright for Marlon and I but I sure wasn't thrilled with the idea at first. We were only 13 after all.”

 

“What in the names of the salt gods are you three gossiping about in here?” Marlon appeared at the door as if he had been summoned.

 

All three of the women shushed him and motioned to the sleeping baby.

 

“Oh sorry.” He whispered, squeezed his wife’s shoulder affectionately, and smiled at seeing her with little Lux in her arms. 

 

“I was just about to tell them about our betrothal.” She grinned back up at him. 

 

“Meh. You’ll leave out all the good bits.” He plopped down on the bed next to her. “I’ll tell you girls how it really happened…”

 

… 

 

Marlon sat at the head table staring down at what would be his lordship sooner than he would like. He glanced to the side at his father. Alon Blackwell hid his affliction well. The Lord of the north smiled and his great laugh boomed out through the hall. But Marlon had discovered the truth, that the man he had always believed to be unsinkable, was dying of the dreaded genetic condition, Fartrad's Disease.

 

It seemed like living a lie to be celebrating the summer feast but he knew it was necessary. The northerners needed to believe in the strength of their lord. And this night especially, when they had visitors from the south, the pretense must be carried out.

 

Marlon’s mother, Quaita Blackwell, caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. He forced a smile onto his own face. She nodded back at him and took her husband's hand in hers. 

 

“A good lord needs a good lady,” Father had told him more than once and Momma certainly was that. It was she who was really responsible for arranging all this, the show of power and nobility. Let the Southerners take that back to Iziz and the bannermen back to their islands. 

 

It had also been Momma who approached Grandmother Flint about her extensive research and knowledge of the families and bloodlines. She'd had Marlon and Jamos both tested to see if they too carried Father's affliction. Neither of them were in danger of suffering the pain and weakness and early death that awaited their father but they would pass that risk on to their children. And this figured into their choice of lifemate. 

 

For this decision Grandmother Flint's expertise was again called upon for advice. It was because of her suggestion that her third son along with his wife and their oldest daughter had taken pride of place at the table directly to the right of the head table where the Lord and his family observed the occasion. 

 

Lana Flint didn't appear to be anymore taken with the idea then he was. He tried to catch her eye a dozen times over the course of the evening. Maybe he could at least foster some sort of solidarity. They were in this together after all. And would be for a long time to come. It wasn't like he wanted it anymore than she did.

 

Marlon's expression turned sour again with frustration. If his future bride wouldn't look at him, he might as well find something more pleasing to gaze upon. Scanning the room he located someone very nice indeed.  

 

This year's recipient of the title of Miss North Sea was also being honored tonight, and salt gods, was she ever worthy of the title. The Kretash girls were renowned for their beautiful, exotic eyes. Adria was no exception. 

 

She, however, was not even worth his consideration. Even leaving off Marlon's betrothal, Adria currently had her lovely eyes focused on his best friend, Glover Harkon. He must have been telling her one of his big fish stories and she was smiling and laughing. 

 

Marlon wished a girl would look at him like that. He wished his betrothed would look at him like that. He thought she might really be pretty if she would only smile. Again he tried to catch Lana's eye and still she was staring fixedly away.

 

He attempted to follow her gaze. She was looking across the room at the table opposite. There sat that family from the south, the Rashes. Lana seemed particularly interested in their son. He was roughly the same age as Marlon himself and, Marlon realized with an uncomfortable twist of his stomach, a rival for her affections. 

 

What could she possibly see in that landlubber? Marlon wondered. The boy looked like he had eaten something bitter but he hadn't touched the super that was laid before him and it was the very best that the Hold’s chef had to offer. Hadn't his mother taught him better than to refuse what was offered by their hosts? Marlon's own mother would have taken a paddle to his backside for being so rude. 

 

He looked at Lana again and back at the Rash kid. They were staring at each other now! It was disgraceful! Here! In the great hall of Blackhold! On the night that her betrothal was supposed to be announced! 

 

Marlon wished he were Lord of the Hold now, so he could just send the whole kriffing family back to Iziz. No, that wasn't true really. He wouldn't wish his father away for anything. But still, why were they even here? 

 

He scanned the faces of the Rash family members. The patriarch was old and uninterested. The mother may have been pretty once but she wore an expression of pure contempt that masked any sort of loveliness. 

 

The only one who seemed to be in anyway enjoying themselves was the little girl. Her bright eyes were attempting to take everything in at once. If her meal went untouched it was only because she was too excited to eat. Her vitality was contagious and Marlon couldn't help but smile a little at her joy. 

 

It was then that he noticed something else, those eyes! The boy had them, too, and the mother! He hadn't noticed before because their expressions were so sour. He shifted his gaze to Adria Kretash and then back to the family from the south. They were the same! They had to be related or it was an extraordinary coincidence. Marlon bet Grandmother Flint would know.

 

That thought reminded him of Lana, but when he turned to look at his betrothed again he saw that she had excused herself from the table. Before he could do so himself and go to look for her, someone else beat him to the punch.

 

“Momma, can I be excused?” Marlon's ten year old brother, Jamos asked, jumping to his feet.

 

Momma frowned, “Well, I was thinking we would all stand together when your brother's engagement is announced…”

 

“Aw come on, Quay,” Alon squeezed his wife's knee under the table and smiled. “The boy will only be young once. Let him go and have fun with his friends.”

 

Jamos gave them his signature grin. “Please, Momma!”

 

“I suppose it will be alright,” Quaita Blackwell finally gave in with a sigh. “But don't be out too long. There will be a cake brought out for the occasion.”

 

“You know I wouldn't miss that. Thanks Momma! Thanks Dad!” Then Jamos turned to his brother with a smirk. “Save me a piece if I'm a little late?”

 

“Where are you going anyway?” Marlon asked him. He was sure his parents would never let  _ him _ go out and have fun with Glover tonight.

 

Jamos gestured with his thumb towards the Southerners. “Mel wants to see the Brylks.” 

 

“Mel? Is that…” Marlon wondered if that was the boy's name but when he looked, he saw that the little girl was standing up next to her seat. We'll, more like she was jumping up and down staring at the head table expectantly.

 

The boy was still seated but it looked like he was arguing with his mother. He finally rolled his eyes and stood, following his sister. 

 

“Is  _ he _ going along?” Marlon started to ask but Jamos had already run off to play the good host. 

 

The elder brother mumbled to himself. “Well, at least Lana won't be…” He looked at the Flint's table and saw that the girl was still missing. When he turned again towards his brother and the Rash siblings, he saw that Lana had joined them.

 

“We can take my boat,” she was saying to them. And then all four of them were out of the hall and gone.

 

… 

 

Marlon sighed dramatically, “And there they went and I thought Lana was going to sail away from me right then and there.”

 

Shara and Mina couldn't suppress their giggles.

  
Lana rolled her eyes. “I was not going to sail away with them. And you've left out the best part. Or have you forgotten,  _ Nolram _ ?”

  
“Nolram?” Mina asked, raising her eyebrows at Shara who was also grinning in anticipation of the next chapter of the story.

  
Marlon chucked, red-faced. “That's a story for another day.”

 

“Speaking of another day.” Lana stood carefully, still holding Lux in her arms. “Tomorrow's likely to be a real Nor’easter. We should all take a leaf out of this one’s book and get some sleep.”

 

Shara didn't know how she would ever be able to give into slumber but she agreed nonetheless and said goodnight to the others as they left her alone in her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and reviewing (hint, hint) and please come and chat with us in the forum!


	19. You Killed The Carriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dalla and Dono are off to rescue Kason, if the circumstances permit. Meanwhile, Thias takes a page from the immortal Ferris Bueller’s book. All pretty dramatic but if you need more, check out DuchessKenobi’s Some Say I Got Devil, in which some Polaris-related issues just hit the proverbial fan - LS

Dono leans into the alcove, her comlink pressed to her ear. “Hutch, Steela needs you to mess with the power generator’s security system or something so they can get near it. They dealt with one patrol already but I’m not sure if they got the tank they need.” 

 

 

 

_  
“Sensitive information much, Dono? Why are you comming me instead of heading back to base?”   
_

 

 

 

Dono looks at Dalla sideways. “Actually, I’m not sure why I’m doing this.” 

 

 

 

_  
“Are you on your way back?”   
_

 

 

 

“No,” Dono says, side-eyeing Dalla. “We have to do some … stuff … first.”

 

 

 

_  
“What kind of stuff?”   
_  
Hutch asks suspiciously.

 

 

 

“Just stuff. Gotta go!” Dono hangs up and fixes Dalla with a glare. “If I go down for this, you’re going down with me.” 

 

 

 

She already knew that bit was coming. “I promise, it’s going to work. It’s our best chance at saving Kase and we have to take it.” 

 

 

 

“Sure,” she sighs. “I still don't know why I'm doing this.”

 

 

 

Because Dalla all but ordered her? Because she doesn't want Rash to have Kason? “We only have five standard minutes before the carriage gets here. What does its escort look like?”

 

 

 

“Droid popper should take out the carriage itself. As for its escort, if Werda’s right it’s probably just regular battle droids. After curfew they won't be worried about much, and since it's not common knowledge they’re moving your cousin they won't expect us.”

 

 

 

“That's our biggest advantage.” Dalla’s not about to loan Werda the keys to the Hold or command of her ship, but she trusts her with this. “We disable the carriage, take out the escort, and get Kason. Easy.”

 

 

 

“I'm not sure about this,” Dono hedges. She checks her blaster batteries. “There are only two of us.”

 

 

 

“There are only three combatants taking out the power generator!” She argues. “Just think -- if we get lucky, then the power will go out just as the carriage gets here. And if not, it'll be a great distraction for Steela.”

 

 

 

“You mean we become destroyer bait,” Dono says woefully. “I   
_  
hate   
_  
destroyers.”

 

 

 

“They probably won’t have destroyers for an escort.”

 

 

 

“You mean the escort carrying Rash’s most valuable hostage?” She gets another idea. “What if Rash is in the carriage with him? Ever thought of that?” 

 

 

 

If Rash is in the carriage with Kason the escort will probably clog the street and it’ll take a lot more than two people and one droid popper to deal with them. “Then when we open the passenger compartment we knock him out and then grab Kason. Not a big deal.” 

 

 

 

“And what if there’s a guard in the carriage itself? What if it’s the General of the Royal Militia? Have you seen that guy? He could probably throw us like javelins!” 

 

 

 

“General Tandin? He’s even less of a problem.” 

 

 

 

“Girl, you are insane.” 

 

 

 

Dalla’s about to say something to that but nixes the idea. “How much charge is in your blaster?” 

 

 

 

“It’s about three quarters full.”

 

 

 

“So is mine. And we have two droid poppers?” 

 

 

 

“One.” 

 

 

 

That’s not great. “You throw it since you were trained. I’ll take care of the escort.”  She’s no Steela, but she’s a decent enough shot. 

 

 

 

“We’re not going to have a lot of time to pull this off.” 

 

 

 

“We aren't. But I don't think we need a lot of time to take care of one carriage.”

 

 

 

“And what about afterward. What are you going to do when you have your cousin?”

 

 

 

Dalla's answer is immediate: “Put him on a boat and send him as far north as north goes.”

 

 

 

“How are you going to do that? Go with him?”

 

 

 

“Kason can sail by himself if he really needs to.” She doesn't like sending him off by himself, but it might be their only choice if she can't convince one of the other rebels to go with him to the Hold. “I’ll try to find someone else to go with him. I told you guys I’d stay here.” 

 

 

 

“Whatever you do, don’t send Hutch. He’s hopeless.” 

 

 

 

“Wasn’t planning on it.”  As a bannerman Lux is probably the best choice, but he won’t go. Saw would be a decent chaperone, but he really needs to stay here both for the rebellion and if Dalla’s backup plan is going to work. That leaves Steela, which is absolutely out of the question. “Too bad the other Jedi aren’t here. They would be perfect.” 

 

 

 

Dono checks her wrist chrono. “We’re going to have to cross that bridge when we get to it. They’ll be coming any second now. Get in position and pray that general isn’t in the carriage.” 

 

 

 

It’s too late and too dangerous to explain Tandin right now, so Dalla crosses her fingers he isn’t in the carriage simply because it would be too complicated and time-consuming to worry about droids, wrangle Kason, stop Dono from killing Tandin, and give Tandin the knockout punch he’d need to maintain his cover story. 

 

 

 

She flattens her back against the building and glances to Dono’s chronometer. It’s exactly six minutes after the time Werda said the carriage would leave the palace, and judging from the distance it would take about that long to reach their location at that speed, as long as they’re taking the most direct route to the Rash estate. Are they? Or are they going to loop their way through the streets like Lux and Steela did taking her to their safehouse?

 

 

 

Her ears perk. “Are those --?” 

 

 

 

“Wheels,” Dono confirms. “It’s the carriage. Can you see it?” 

 

 

 

“Not yet,” Dalla inches closer. “Starting to now. Looks like a three-droid escort --.” 

 

 

 

“That’s it?” 

 

 

 

“And they’re not destroyers. You’re in luck, Dono. They must be banking on Kason’s presence not being common knowledge.”

 

 

 

“I don’t know,” Dono hedges. “Three battle droids?” 

 

 

 

“More would attract attention. He doesn’t want that.” 

 

 

 

“If you say so. What about the carriage itself?” 

 

 

 

“Looks automated. Droid driver, can’t see in the passenger compartment.” 

 

 

 

“We need to be sure this is the right carriage. When they get closer, can you see your cousin?” 

 

 

 

“The windows have shades drawn. I can’t see anything.” 

 

 

 

“What about a shadow? You have to be able to see something.” 

 

 

 

The carriage rolls ever-closer. “I can’t. We’re going to be behind them in ten seconds.” 

 

 

 

“If we can’t confirm he’s in there I’m not throwing the droid popper.” 

 

 

 

“The shades are made so you can’t see through them!” If they don’t do this now Dalla’s going to go crazy. Kason’s so close she can practically reach out and touch him; there’s no way she’s about to let him slip through her fingers. “Dono, they’re in the perfect position. Throw the --.” 

 

 

 

An energy pulse swallows the rest of her sentence at the same time the street lights wink out. 

 

 

 

Dono lights up. “They did it!”

 

 

 

The carriage’s escort stops short and looks around, flipping on their headlamps. “What was that?” one mechanical voice asks. 

 

 

 

Dalla gives Dono a hopeful look. “Never going to get a better chance!” 

 

 

 

“No we won’t,” Dono agrees and rolls the droid popper. The device rolls between the carriage’s huge wheels and goes off, taking the driver with it. Dalla really hopes what Ahsoka says about them not being harmful to organics is true. 

 

 

 

“What the --?” One of the escort droids cries. Dalla steps out of the alley and knocks it down with a shot to the chest plate. 

 

 

 

The situation snaps into place for the others when she takes another shot that misses wildly.  “It’s an ambush! Call for --!” 

 

 

 

“Oh, I am   
_  
not   
_  
doing destroyers today!” Dono rages and charges in, an expression of pure rage on her face. “No way, no how, not after all the crap that’s happened!” She blasts one of the droids in a head. “Not after the traffic, not after the almost leak, not after being tank bait, not after all the crap   
_  
she   
_  
talked me into doing.   
_  
Nope!   
_  
It’s --.” She blasts another. “Not!” Another. “Happening!”    

 

 

 

“Um, Dono?” Dalla points out. “I don’t think they can call for backup if they’re dead.” 

 

 

 

Dono glares at the dismantled droids with a look that could scare a rancor. 

 

 

 

“Get your cousin and let’s get out of here,” she growls. 

 

 

 

_  
And pray those droid poppers really don’t harm people.   
_  
She races over to the carriage door and tugs on the handle. Dono sighs and walks over. “It’s locked, Dalla. You’ll have to spoof the code if you want to get it --.” 

 

 

 

Dalla slams the butt of her blaster against the locking mechanism. 

 

 

 

“Or you could do that.” 

 

 

 

The lock futzes for a second and then with the device no longer holding pressure on the tumblers, releases. Dalla yanks the door open. “Kason! Kason, it’s me. We have to --.” she stops cold. 

 

 

 

Every inch of space in the carriage is covered in boxes. 

 

 

 

“Oh no,” She rips open the top of one of them, revealing a statue wrapped in packing peanuts. A second, filled to the brim with gold bars. “No, no no!” 

 

 

 

Dono jumps into the doorway and her face falls. “Oh, that’s not good.” 

 

 

 

“He’s not here,” Dalla rips open another box even though they’re all far too small for Kason to fit in them. “Werda said he was going to be here!”

 

 

 

“She wouldn’t lie to me, not when I’m the closest thing to a friend she has. She must have -- oh gods,” Dono sighs.   
_  
“Black wealth.   
_  
This must be the stuff Rash stole from King Dendup, and since it’s stolen the people call it ‘black.’ If Werda wasn’t so close and she heard them talking about it, then it sounds like Blackwell.” 

 

 

 

_  
He’s not here. He was never here. He’s still at the palace with Rash, and his only defenses are an old man and General Tandin, whose loyalty I don't even have verbally.   
_

 

 

 

Dono grabs her shoulder. 

 

 

 

“We have to go,” she urges. “You’re not going to find your cousin here, and getting captured or killed isn’t going to help him either. Now let’s go!” 

 

 

 

Dalla nods mutely and follows her out of the carriage and down the alley, running faster than the fambaa speeder could probably ever go. 

 

 

 

“Oh, and by the way?” Dono pants. “We are   
_  
so   
_  
not telling Steela about this.” 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

Five...four...three...two…

 

 

 

The second his father rounds the corner, Thias Blackwell bangs on his sister’s locked bedroom door. 

 

 

 

“Dalla! Open up!” He yanks on the doorknob for good measure. “Are you dead in there or something?” 

 

 

 

“Thias, stop that!” Marlon orders and jogs over. 

 

 

 

“She’s locked everybody out,” Thias argues. 

 

 

 

“She’s very sick,” Marlon reasons, gently pushing Thias away from the door. “I don’t want you or any of the others catching it and I don’t want you disturbing her. She needs her rest.” 

 

 

 

“If she needs her rest then why’d you lock her door? Then she has to get up every time someone goes in to check on her.” This more than anything tripped Thias’ lie detector. Dalla habitually locks her door to keep out brothers and cousins and Portia, but never when she’s sick. She hates shuffling from bed to door every time she wants to let someone in. 

 

 

 

Marlon fishes around in his pocket. “She doesn’t have to,” he explains and holds up a key. “See? I can come in and check on her whenever I need, and she has her comlink in case she needs anything.” 

 

 

 

“Why hasn’t she ever commed me when you’re busy?” 

 

 

 

“Because I told her not to. She knows only to comm me or Aunt Shara and we check on her enough she doesn’t need to do it often. Now step away from the door,” he squeezes between Thias and the door and sticks the key in the lock. “Thias, let me be Father. I’m going to make sure you didn’t wake your sister.”  

 

 

 

Thias’ gaze drops to his feet. “Did you tell her about the contract yet?”

 

 

 

Marlon slips in and shuts the door without answering and before Thias can get a good look inside the room. He stalks away in defeat. Well there went that option of finding out what the heck Dalla’s doing in her room, or if she’s even there. 

 

 

 

He was willing to entertain the illness story for a while, but now it’s just weird. Dalla hasn’t made a sound from inside her room, and the foods Marlon’s brought in supposedly for her aren’t things Aunt Shara would give to a sick person. That, compounded with the fact Marlon hasn’t eaten with the family since then leads him to believe that just maybe Dalla isn’t the one taking meals in her room. 

 

 

 

He falls back to the corner and peeks around the wall until Marlon emerges. 

 

 

 

“I’ll be back soon, Chirn Bait,” he says with a wobbling smile. “Comm me if you need anything.” 

 

 

 

Oh, that seals it. 

 

 

 

Thias tiptoes away to Aunt Shara and Uncle Jamos’ wing of the Hold. 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

Cornel sits on the floor building a tower with his and Arkon’s blocks when Thias enters their wing without a care in the universe about being caught. Uncle Jamos is away at the Harkons’ to act as their family’s representative for Miranda’s funeral since Marlon and Dalla can’t go, and he passed Aunt Shara stress cleaning a few rooms over. 

 

 

 

“Cornel, I need your help.” 

 

 

 

Cornel doesn’t look up from his project, but that’s typical for him. Thias knows he’s listening. 

 

 

 

“It’s Dalla. I need you to pick the lock on her bedroom door.” 

 

 

 

Cornel grabs two blocks and compares them while Thias keeps talking. “I know you can do it. You’ve looked at locks before; opening one shouldn’t be a problem. C’mon, Corns. You can help Kason and Dalla.” 

 

 

 

No reaction, not even the small ones Thias knows to look for with Cornel. Makes sense, he’s only eight after all. Nobody that young would understand how opening Dalla’s door could possibly help her if she’s sick, or how it could help Kason all the way in Iziz. He sighs in defeat. Oh well, he knew it was going to come to this anyway. 

 

 

 

“I’ll give you cake.” 

 

 

 

Cornel hesitates a tiny bit at cake. 

 

 

 

“Your mom’s making a care package for the Harkons. She just baked one of those fruit cakes she makes on special occasions,” he says. “I swiped it and if you help me, I’ll give you a piece.” 

 

 

 

Cornel selects a block and places it on the top of his tower. 

 

 

 

“Two,” he demands. 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

Ten minutes and two slices of cake wrapped in foil later Thias watches Cornel fiddle around in the door with two slim pieces of metal. 

 

 

 

How long can opening a lock possibly take? In the holos it only takes a few seconds, but Cornel’s had his ear pressed to the lock for almost three whole minutes. 

 

 

 

“We don’t have a lot of time, Corns,” he worries. “If Father comes back while we’re here, then we’re toast. We don’t have any reason for opening Dalla’s door that he’ll think is --.” 

 

 

 

Cornel gives one of the files a twist and the lock clicks. 

 

 

 

Thias’ eyes go wide. “You did it!” 

 

 

 

Cornel gets up, sticks the files back in his pocket and holds out his hand expectantly. 

 

 

 

“Yeah, you deserve two pieces,” he happily deposits them in Cornel’s hands. “You rule, buddy. Thanks!” 

 

 

 

His cousin takes the cake and unwraps the foil on one of the slices to pick at the fruit topping.

 

 

 

“Find Kase,” he says, and walks away 

 

 

 

Thias’ heart tugs a little as Cornel goes away. He thought they’d all done a good job of sheltering Cornel and Arkon from the ugliness of the last few weeks, but of course he noticed his big brother was gone. Of course he wants to help. 

 

 

 

Well, so does Thias. He checks once more to make sure no one else is in the hallway, then turns the doorknob and enters the room. 

 

 

 

Dalla’s ledgers are spread across her desk. The laundry hamper is half-full. The bed is made but the covers are crumpled as if someone’s been sitting on it. The refresher door is wide open, revealing an empty room. 

 

 

 

The only thing the room’s missing is Dalla.  

 

 

 

Thias’ gaze snaps around the room. Fishing gear, check, clothes, check, toiletries, check -- she didn’t take anything with her. She left in a hurry. 

 

 

 

_  
Someone took her.   
_

 

 

 

Thias clicks the lock behind him and bolts for his bedroom. Why Father would cover this up he has no idea, but there’s only one place someone would take Dalla. And if they took her the night Marlon told everyone she was sick, then she’s been there for two days already. 

 

 

 

_  
That's enough time to hold a wedding,   
_  
he thinks as he feverishly rifles through the pockets of his leathers.   
_  
That's enough time for him to do salt-gods-know-what to her. Forget who owns the navy, we need the rebels. We need the rebels to get her and Kason out of there. We need to -- kriff it, where are the kriffing numbers?!   
_

 

 

 

He put the numbers in the pocket of his leathers when he pulled them out of his drawer and he hasn't moved them since. Heck, he hasn't moved his   
_  
leathers   
_  
since he heard about Miranda and nobody else has. Nobody but Dalla, who folded them the night before she disappeared.

 

 

 

Thias stops looking.   
_  
She took the numbers.   
_

 

 

 

That doesn't make any sense. If Dalla was kidnapped why would she take the numbers? And why didn't she try to escape or signal him or…

 

 

 

The truth smacks him like one of Aunt Shara’s skillets.   
_  
She needed them. She had to call the rebels because she was going to Iziz and she needed their help. She left on her own.   
_

 

 

 

He doesn't know whether he’s more relieved his sister hasn't been kidnapped or angry that she fleeced him. 

 

 

 

Thias takes a few deep breaths and thinks. Okay, Dalla has to be in Iziz by now. She left on her own, she has his comm numbers, and Father’s covering it up. Probably so Rash doesn’t find her. If he knew she was so close, especially with the contract…

 

 

 

__  
She doesn’t know about the contract.   


 

 

 

He grabs his comlink and furiously dials Dalla’s number, only to get a busy signal. Figures she destroyed or ditched her comlink, but how is he supposed to contact her now? If she has a burner comm he doesn’t know the number, and he didn’t memorize any of the Bonteris’. The only way to warn Dalla about the contract would be to do it in person. 

 

 

 

Well, that would be a challenge for the ages. He’d have to slip out from under the watchful eyes of his father and aunt and Double Trouble, steal a ship, somehow worm his way into Iziz without anyone noticing, and find the rebels in the middle of the capital city. 

 

 

 

But it might also mean saving Dalla. It might mean getting Kason out of the palace. It might mean bringing Miranda’s killers to justice. 

 

 

 

He grabs his leathers off the back of his chair and yanks them on. No one ever said Thias Blackwell was one to back away from a challenge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and don’t hesitate to chat with DK and myself in the forum!


	20. Norcogs and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a joint effort by LS and I. It begins with your regular scheduled Shara era narration by yours truly, DK, and then LS takes the Dalgos reigns to continue the tale where Marlon left off.
> 
>  
> 
> Just when you think everything's wrapped up and Shara can make a clean break, something's gotta get in the way. Enjoy! ~ DK

Jamos stood smiling down at the little furballs yipping at his ankles. Glover Harkon’s four year old daughter was picking them up one at a time by the scruffs of their necks and counting. Elinor had already assured him that there were five pups but now it seemed she had to prove it using her newly acquired skill of reciting the Onderonian numbers. It wasn't easy with the little beasts squirming all over each other.

 

Elinor’s twin brother, Ephraim, was standing a meter away from them scowling around his thumb. He popped the soggy digit out of his mouth only long enough to inform their guest, “You can't have all five of 'em!”

 

“Little rascal,” Glover reached down and tousled his son’s red curls. “You'd rather we kept them all, wouldn't you? You know we'd never have room once they all get to be as big as Old Grey.”

 

“I promise. I'll only take the one.” Jamos assured the boy.

 

“Effry, you made me lose count!” Elinor pouted and folded her arms over her chest.

 

Jamos knelt down, careful not to squash any of the pups and looked the little girl in the eye. “I trust you. Your counting is magnificent!”

 

She gave him a toothy grin and a giggle at the compliment and then asked, “Is the pup for the baby?” She had been enchanted by Dalla from the moment they had arrived the evening before.

 

“Not this time, princess. This one is going to be for my girl.”

 

“Are you gonna marry her?” Green eyes lit up with excitement.

 

Jamos grinned. “I'd sure like to.”

 

“Did you ask her?”

 

“I did but she hasn't given me an answer yet.” Jamos whispered conspiratorially.

 

Elinor nodded with complete surety. “She'll say yes when you give her a norcog.”

 

“I truly hope so.” He frowned seriously.

 

“And then you can have babies like Dalla and like the baby in Momma's belly.”

 

Jamos looked up with surprise at Glover who shrugged back at him laughing.

 

“Not exactly how we thought we'd make the announcement,” Glover said. “but aye, Adria’s expecting. There'll be a little friend for Dalla in a few months or perhaps a little lordling to join our families.”

 

“Congratulations!” Jamos smiled.

 

“Better be a brother.” Ephraim grumbled. “Sisters are gross.”

 

The female, red-haired twin looked ready to show her temper before Jamos brilliantly diffused the situation. “Hey Ellie, if you were my girl which pup would you want me to give you?”

 

She gave her brother one last scowl and then appeared to be deep in thought. “Hmm…” little fists rested on her hips in a convincing imitation of her lord father. Then she reached down into the wriggling mass of mostly gray fur and pulled out the solid white pup. “Portia. Cause she's white like a weddin’ dress.” She struggled to lift the norcog and hand her over to Jamos.

 

“She's perfect, Ellie! I couldn't have chosen better myself.”

 

Once again he got a giggle from the little girl as he stood, cradling the pup in his arms. He gave Ephraim a wink, “See, I'm only taking one of the girl pups.”

 

The little boy nodded, content.

 

“You sure are good with kids, Jamos.” Glover patted him on the back as they left the kennel nursery. “I hope your beast master gives you a dozen of them.”

 

“I'd be alright with that.” He grinned. “But I don't want to rush her into anything. We'll see how things go with Portia here.” He looked into the pup’s icey blue eyes and then nearly dropped her when the commlink in his pocket chimed.

 

Quickly he handed off the pup and pulled out the device to check the ID. “Kriff. It's Lana! She's not supposed to know I'm here!”

 

“Take it in the comm room.” Glover nodded down the hall toward an open door. “It's just like the one at the Hold. She’ll never know the difference.”

 

“Thanks.” He rushed to the holotable, inserted the comm unit, and then tried to compose himself so he wouldn't look guilty when he activated the image.

 

“Hey, Lana.” he opened and then seeing a few stray norcog hairs on his shirt, brushed them away. Not that you could see a detail like that in a holo, at least he hoped she couldn't. “You guys done with the unpleasant business and on your way down river?”

 

Then he saw the look on her face and his own expression tightened with worry.

 

“No, we're not.” His sister-in-law spouted angrily. “That kriffing monster knocked all the wind from our sails.”

 

“What happened? I thought it was just a matter of signing a few documents?” Jamos asked.

 

“It was supposed to be.” This was a voice from outside the range of the holorecorder. Shara's voice was choked with a sob. He wanted to see her. She was probably worried that crying had messed up her makeup or made her eyes puffy. He didn't care.

 

Lana looked back over her shoulder to where the girl must have been standing. Then she looked back at Jamos and explained. “It started out that way. Everything was going smoothly, Shara signed. Marlon signed as her liege lord and witness. Then they passed the stylus to that...”

 

“He said he wouldn't sign because I might be carrying his child!” Shara exclaimed.

 

Lana nodded.

 

“But you're not. You couldn't be.” Jamos spoke in the direction Lana had indicated even though Shara was still staying out of the image.

 

“I'm not, but he said he had proof that I… could be.”

 

“How could… you didn't…” he swallowed.

 

Shara didn't answer so Lana continued for her. “Mr Rash invited Shara to have dinner with him last night.”

 

“It was only dinner! Nothing happened!” Shara asserted.

 

“She had along a droid to record the whole evening and make sure nothing happened.” Lana added.

 

“He must have tampered with the recording then.” Jamos guessed with a frown. He thought he heard another whimper of a sob come from outside the image.

 

“He didn't have a chance. We had the only copy saved in the droid's memory.” Lana ground her teeth angrily.

 

“Then how…”

 

Lana raged on. “We didn't think to look at it before we went to the meeting. Shara told us nothing happened and we believed her.” She looked back. “And we still do.” She sighed. “So it was a complete surprise when he asked us to show the video to the officiant and we saw what he had done.”

 

“What did he do?” Jamos inquired. He wanted to know the exact reason he would be murdering the sleemo.

 

Lana looked back again as if asking if the other young woman wanted to tell it and then nodded when given an unseen sign to continue. “Most of the holo was completely innocent. What was it you called it, Shar?”

 

“The most boring date holo ever recorded.”

 

Jamos grunted an assent. He was following the story. What he didn't understand was why she had agreed to have dinner with her _nearly_ _ex_ -husband in the first place. Jamos had never even had dinner with her. He would remedy that as soon as she arrived. Well after he gave her the norcog.

 

Lana was going on with her narrative. “Then when they were between courses, Shara excused herself from the table.”

 

“I had to use the 'fresher. I swear I never knew he followed me”

 

“The pervert followed you to the 'fresher?” Jamos exclaimed.

 

“Well not _in_.” she explained.

 

“But you couldn't tell from the holo.” Lana seethed. “The vid just showed him following her down the hall and then after a few minutes he walked back to the table straightening his clothing and looking very satisfied with himself.”

 

“I hope he was satisfied with himself. I certainly didn't have anything to do with it.” Shara's voice snarked.

 

Jamos had to suppress a grin.

 

“It was enough _proof_ to throw a shadow of doubt over the proceedings.” Lana frowned.

 

He knew there wasn't anything funny about it. “So what happens now?”

 

“He wanted me to stay in Iziz till it can be proved that I'm not…”

 

Lana shook her head. “It's Sanjay's word against ours.”

 

Jamos thought of all his plans, to give her the norcog, the fishing trip, dinner. He was angry but he was also disappointed. “So you're not…”

 

Finally with a sigh Shara stepped in the holo field. “I told them all it was stupid for me to stay near him. He'll only try something like this again as soon as the truth is out.”

 

He gazed at her, the determined set of her jaw, her hands curled into fists planted at her hips, so strong in the face of opposition. She was beautiful. “Then you are… coming home?”

 

She nodded. “I have to be constantly chaperoned to make sure I don't try to end my imaginary pregnancy or… ” She looked away blushing. “Or try to conceive a real one.”

 

“H-how long?” He didn't want to seem impatient but he must have been failing miserably because his sister-in-law raised her eyebrows at him.

 

Shara didn't seem to have noticed. “Just until I can send back proof that I'm not carrying a Rash heir. A couple of weeks?” She shrugged looking back up into his eyes. “And then he just needs to sign the documents to make it official.”

 

Jamos gave her an encouraging smile. “Well, that's not so bad…” He would have said more but at that moment he was interrupted by a little holobomber.

 

“Mr. Jamos?” Elinor wandered into the room. “Is that her? She's real pretty.”

 

Before Shara could make out more than a flash of red hair, Glover ducked into the holofield and drew his daughter out. It was plenty of evidence for Lana to realize the truth, however.

 

“Jamos Emoth Blackwell, are you at Harkon Hall?” She accused.

 

“Y-yes,” he admitted, swallowing.

 

“And where is my daughter?” Like a mother bird, the small woman seemed to puff up her feathers in her anger. She was frankly terrifying when she got like this.

 

“She's fine! She's here with me! Well, with Adria right at the moment. But but she's perfectly alright!” He tried for one of his signature grins.

 

Lana was not to be appeased. “You took. My daughter. On a sea voyage. Without my permission!”

 

He glanced at Shara but she didn't offer any help. In fact she seemed to be enjoying watching the show. “It's hardly a sea voyage to Harkon Hall. More of a day trip really. Her nurse is here and Adria…”

 

“I'm afraid it's my fault, Lana.” Glover stepped into the holofield. He looked suitably humbled in her presence. “I invited them. Knew they were all alone up at the Hold. Thought they could use the company.”

 

“I might have known you had something to do with this, Glover Harkon, but that doesn't excuse Jamos for taking you up on the offer.” She shot her brother-in-law a glare. “Why didn't you just bring the whole family up to the Hold? You know you and Adria and the twins are always welcome.”

 

Jamos gave the other man a pleading look and Glover returned it with an almost imperceptible wink.

 

“Well, to tell the truth, Lana, Adria wasn't really feeling up to the trip.”

 

“She's not ill is she?” Lana worried about her friend and probably a little that she might be contagious.

 

“No, not exactly.” Glover smiled. “She’s uh… well you see, Dalla's gonna have a little companion come spring.”

 

Lana gasped excitedly, and soon the two of them had forgotten all about Jamos's guilt.

 

Jamos's attention went back to Shara and hers to him. They couldn't exactly have a conversation while the others were right there but he did say softly. “Are you alright?”

 

Shara nodded. “I'm still coming home.”

 

“I can't wait to see you. I mean really…” he gestured towards the holotable. “When you get here.”

 

“Me too. Might have to wait a bit on that fishing trip, till I…”

 

“As soon as that's all taken care of. I promise.”

 

They both noticed that it had gotten quiet. And then Glover laughed. “Did I hear you say something about constant chaperoning? I don't envy you and Marlon that job. Though maybe it'll be good practice for when Dalla's old enough for suitors.”

 

“Aye, it may be at that.” Lana smiled. “I'll tell _Nolram_ you said so when we get to the ship.”

 

“Nolram?” Shara perked up at the sound of the name. “You never did finish that story.” She looked hopefully at her friend, sure that Lana would say they didn't have time for storytelling.

 

“What's this?” Jamos asked. “I don't think I've heard this story either.”

 

“It was about a year after your father went to the salt gods.” Glover patted the younger man on the shoulder. “So you were probably sailing around in the Polaris trying to avoid the rest of us.”

 

“Oh, aye.” Jamos nodded with a frown. It was a time in his life that he'd largely blocked out. It had taken him years to forgive his family for keeping him in the dark about his father's illness even though they were trying to protect him. He mentally shook away the dark thoughts. “So what happened?”

 

Lana sighed. She wasn't getting out of it now. “I'd just turned 16 and I had hardly seen Marlon since the betrothal feast. It seems he asked Glover here to help him get better acquainted with me.”

 

Lord Harkon grinned. “It worked, didn't it?”

 

“Don’t go giving yourself any medals.”

 

* * *

 

 

Well, this was _not_ going as planned.

 

At the first hint of breath on his ear, Marlon Blackwell knew it couldn’t be good. Nobody spoke to the first mate when the captain was twenty feet away and clearly visible. Kriff, no one should want to speak to Nolram, who practically materialized out of thin air, at all.

 

But when he heard that voice hiss “Hey there, _Nolram,”_ he realized he’d unlocked a new definition of trouble.

 

Marlon did his best to look calm rather than terrified and dared to look at her. Dark hair. Determined eyes. Her entire being radiating rage.

 

“Hello, Lady Flint,” he said as calmly as possible. “Can I help you?”

 

The look on his betrothed’s face clued him in that he’d better drop the oars before he finished rowing himself out to the salt gods’ halls.

 

“You’re so lucky my parents taught me not to make scenes,” Lana whispered. “So instead of me throwing you into the ocean, where do you want to do your explaining?”

 

Marlon swallowed his terror and awe at her. He could have stayed staring at her for hours, but luckily he and Glover Harkon had rehearsed the plan for if he got busted. _My deepest apologies, Lady Lana. I understand your anger, but if you’ll join me for some lunch then I can explain everything._

 

Instead, what came out of Marlon’s mouth was: “Uh, the pub?”

 

Lana looked like she was about to slap him. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

 

“For food!” Marlon scurried. “No drinks. Just for lunch. Will you agree to that?”

 

Lana scowled.

 

“I pick the place,” she relented.

 

…

 

“Lana, I'm sorry.”

 

“That's it? ‘I’m sorry?’” Lana repeated. “Marlon, you were spying on me!”

 

“I was just trying to make the best of our situation,” he said. “We’re going to be married, and I don't know you. I thought that if I knew something about you, if I had some information, then when our courtship started I would at least have something to go off.”

 

“Then why didn't you knock on our door like a normal person? Why all this deception?”

 

Marlon looked woefully at the table. “I wanted you to be impressed with me when we started courting.”

 

“I'm not.”

 

No kidding. “I wouldn’t expect you to be so.”

 

Just as it looked Lana was about to lay into him, the waitress returned with their drinks. They’d both ordered water, Lana to ensure nothing would soften her planned tirade and Marlon not to look like a jerk. “Thank you,” she said to the young woman. “And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but these will be on separate checks.”

 

“Lana, I have credits.” Marlon protested when they finished ordering. “I suggested we come here; I insist on paying.”

 

Lana shook her head. “I have credits too, and I don’t want to be beholden to you for anything. Even if it is a lousy sandwich.”

 

Marlon raised his hands in mock surrender. “As you wish.”

 

“With that out of the way, let’s get started.” Lana took a sip of water. “I’d like to start out by saying that ‘Nolram’ is a horrible alias.”

 

“Glover Harkon helped me pick it out,” he said.

 

“I thought Glover Harkon would be more creative than spelling your name backwards. It didn’t even work. I knew who you were the second I saw you get off the ship and stare at me and not my cousins.”

 

“Wait,” Marlon swooped in. “So what you said to Glover, about my voice cracking when we were thirteen and being like a stone statue -- you knew that was me standing next to him?”

 

Lana grinned. “It was revenge.”

 

Marlon supposed that was fair, considering he’d all but circled the Flint lodge with binoculars. “Lana, when our betrothal was announced I wasn’t thrilled about it either…”

 

“Trust me, you have no idea. I thought I was marrying a statue then, but now I know I’m marrying a spy.”

 

“I want to be a good husband,” he said. “My father loved my mother, and was loyal to her, and he always tried to learn more about her to make her happy.” He felt a lump in his throat mentioning his father. “I thought I should get started learning earlier rather than later.”

 

“So you _spy_ on me?”

 

“I didn’t look through your windows or anything,” he defended himself. “I just followed you around the docks and the market so I could find some things you liked.”

 

“You did, huh? What did you find out?” she challenged.

 

Marlon frantically tried to discern which pieces of information wouldn’t make him sound like a stalker. “Well, you’re a brilliant haggler. You like to sneak treats to the Brylks while the beast masters aren’t looking. If you get caught at anything you tell the person who caught you to jump into the sea.”  He smiled a little. “Your favorite color is purple.”

 

“You didn’t learn that today, ‘Hii’mmarlonandmyfavoritecolorisgreen.’”

 

“It wasn’t all one word like that,” he huffed.

 

“Oh yes it was,” she smirked. “I never thought I was going to see the future Lord of the North panic.”

 

“It was the first thing I got to say to you. Of course I was nervous.”

 

“Mmhm.” Lana’s smirk faded a bit as she remembered something.

 

Marlon certainly hoped she wasn’t remembering that southern landlubber Rash.

 

She furrowed her brow. “What could you be thinking of that has you so angry?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Lying to me isn’t a wise decision at the moment.”

 

Salt gods, she was right. “Do you remember the southern family at our betrothal banquet?”

 

“Who, the Rashes?” Her eyes widened. “The boy? Marlon, I was thirteen! I only spoke to him that night.”

 

“I wanted to throw him into the water,” Marlon admitted. “He was scowling at everything.”

 

“Brooding. When you’re thirteen, it’s more attractive than statues at the head table.” She shook her head. “But no, I wasn’t thinking about him. His little sister, her name was Melaana, spoke to me right before her family left. I gave her a book for a souvenir and she was thrilled. She said she hoped you and I were very happy together and that we had a big wedding on the beach with purple flowers and later a nursery full of beautiful babies.”

 

Marlon, who in the past had simply mulled over marriage and fatherhood as a duty or vaporous concept, suddenly found himself imagining that wedding and those beautiful babies. “I didn’t get to talk to her but she sounds like a sweet child.”

 

“Salt gods, if I could have taken her home with me I would. But her brother. For all our fantasy planning to run away together, he needed to sharpen his gentlemanly skills. When we docked I lifted Melaana out of my boat, he went next, and then it was my turn. He didn’t offer his hand for me, but there was someone else. Someone else who raced down the dock at top speed, offered his hand, and said with an enormous terrified grin on his face --.”

 

“Hi, I’m Marlon and my favorite color is green. What’s your favorite color?” Marlon makes sure to put the spaces between the words.

 

“And then Sanjay gave you a death glare. Melaana stepped on his foot.”

 

Marlon liked this girl Melaana more and more.

 

“Still, if I knew I was going to be spied on…”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted to help us, but I’ve just made things worse. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Lana, if you want me to leave you alone, I will. I’ll leave you alone. I hope you can forgive me for this.”  

 

“Marlon --.”

 

But before either of them could say something else, the waitress returned and set their meals in front of them. He hadn’t eaten all day, but Marlon’s appetite dried up like a prune.

 

“Can I get anything else for you?” The waitress asked.

 

“Yes, actually,” Lana said. “I’m sorry for telling you otherwise, but this is going to be all on one check.”

 

Marlon looked up. He couldn’t believe Lana was going to try to pay for his food. “Lana, please don’t --.”

 

“Not a word, Nolram,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “This is courtship. A gentleman always pays for the date.”  

 

* * *

 

 

Lana finished her story, smiling at the memory.

 

It had gotten Jamos to thinking. Aye, he was definitely going to take Shara to dinner and always be completely honest with her.

 

She was smiling at him now from the holoimage and he gave her a wink.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Don't forget there's lots of cool extras in our forum! Speaking of which if you happen to be reading along and there's something you'd like to hear more about or you have an idea of something we could add to the forum to make it more fun and interesting, please let us know!  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/myforums/DuchessKenobi/272031/


	21. Chaos is a Ladder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though the carriage was a bust, there's still much to celebrate. And plenty of business to take care of, some of which isn't so merry. -LS

Operating the holotable means using some of the precious fuel in their generator, but tonight nobody cares. The rebels break out their bottles of spirits, someone plays a jumpy tune on a string instrument, and smiles beam off everyone’s faces, even the Jedi on the hologram. 

 

Almost everyone. Dalla’s happy act is shaky at best. She alternates between watching the merriment and working on the cup of ale in her hand. 

 

Lux taps her shoulder. “Are you okay? You seem distant.” 

 

“Yeah,” she nods and gestures to her cup. “Just been drinking.” 

 

Lux looks at her cup dubiously and then goes back to his own, which is probably the only reason he bought her excuse. The Blackwells generally aren’t heavy drinkers, but the stuff in Dalla’s cup is weaker than what she drank as a toddler on voyages. One cup isn’t going to get her weepy-drunk. What will kill her mood, on the other hand, is tearing through the royal carriage searching hopelessly for Kason only to find gold bars and useless decorations. 

 

Some have hit the ale harder, and the ale’s hit them back. Dalla can only imagine how Lux, knocking back shots like nobody’s business, is going to feel in the morning. Probably just as awful as she did the morning after her first celebration of a good catch, or how Miranda felt after her underage stunt in the Hold’s pub with Dalla’s ID. She just hopes Lux knows how to reign himself in. 

 

Steela pours herself a drink, muscles Saw and Lux to the middle of the room, and raises her glass for a toast. 

 

“We must celebrate,” she announces, her words slurring together just a little.  _ How much ale has this girl had?  _

 

“With pleasure,” Saw agrees and grabs her around the waist. He swings his sister around in a circle under Lux’s scrutinizing gaze. 

 

“That’s sweet,” Dalla observes, a smile creeping onto her face for the first time since she opened the carriage. Uncle Jamos is fond of swinging her even though he sometimes complains she’s too big, and little Lana loves to be tossed around. 

 

“Oh, they’re so cute,” Hero agrees. “If I had a brother, I’d want one like Saw.” 

 

Once Steela’s back on solid ground she levies a mischievous gaze at Lux and opens her arms. “Come here, you handsome Senator!” 

 

Lux more than willingly obliges, wrapping his arms around her. When Dalla manages to take her attention off the situation unfolding before her eyes, she catches Saw’s gaze. He’s glaring at Lux and Steela like he wants nothing more than to punt Lux into the river. 

 

“Saw doesn’t look happy,” she whispers. 

 

Hero whistles. “You think that’s bad? Check out Ahsoka.” 

 

Dalla does. Ahsoka looks like she’s smelled something rancid, and she’s not shy about hiding it either. Dalla grabs one of the liquor bottles. “Cut Lux and Steela off. We don’t need this going any further than it already has.” 

 

“You’ve seen this before?” Hero asks with a raised eyebrow. 

 

A ship’s captain wears many hats. One is Keeper of the On-Board Booze. “Way too much for my liking and I’m not doing it again tonight.” 

 

“If it means preventing a Lux and Saw fight, I’m all for it,” someone else says and tops off their own drink before stashing the bottles. “It’s like tookas and anoobas when they go head to head.” 

 

“Doesn’t look like one’s about to break out right now, but I’m going to go stop it before it can.” Dalla knocks back the rest of her ale and walks over to Lux, Saw, and Steela. “The return of the conquering heroes!” 

 

Saw laughs. “We’re something like that, I guess.” 

 

“Too bad the Jedi weren't here to see the looks on the people’s faces tonight. You might have some new recruits in the morning.”

 

“I’d say!” He grins. “Wish I could have seen Rash’s reaction.”

 

Steela takes another sip of what she doesn't know will be her last cup of ale. “Looks like you and Dono got back to base okay.”

 

“We did.”  _ Sort of. We were supposed to bring someone else to base too.  _ “Hutch helped you guys with the generator?”

 

Steela nods. “He must have spoofed an alarm to tempt a few patrols away. They were thinner than I’d have thought.” 

 

“Well, we got through them,” Lux smiles. “The power generator’s gone and the people are cheering in the streets.” 

 

General Kenobi’s hologram steps forward.  _ “This latest development will surely get Count Dooku’s attention. He will respond harshly. They will stop at nothing to find you; you must adapt and continue to confront them in order to liberate Onderon.”  _

 

“We will,” Saw says.

 

“And we shall win,” Steela promises. 

 

It’s a rousing thought, Dalla decides, but liquid confidence might have something to do with that answer. Today’s events are going to get Rash’s attention too, probably more than Dooku’s. Dalla sends a worried look to Dono, who replies in kind. Not only did they destroy his power generator, but the two of them ambushed his stolen stash. He won’t take that lightly. 

 

_ “In that, I have no doubt,”  _ Kenobi says. 

 

_ “Now you must rally the people,”  _ Skywalker breaks in and looks pointedly at Lux, then at Dalla.  _ “You’ll need their support.”  _

 

“Two of the five Great Houses are represented in this room,” Lux proclaims and draws himself up to his full height. “Lady Blackwell and I will use all the influence we have to bring other families to our side.” 

 

“It won't be easy,” Dalla admits. “But we’ll do it. You all have said we’re both pretty good talkers.”

Lux blushes and some of the rebels roar with laughter. 

 

“I thought we were bannermen,” Lux says with mock bitterness. 

 

“Nothing we don’t know already,” Saw claps him on the back a little too hard. 

 

_ “Status could help, but your ability to influence the people will be determined by your capacity to represent them,”  _ Skywalker continues.  _ “Not only on the battlefield, but off it. Against your enemies, even within your own ranks. Your commitment will inspire others. Your conviction will lead to victory.”  _

 

_ “After tonight’s efforts, the people will be ready to follow you.”  _ Kenobi says.  _ “You will need a leader for them to rally behind.”  _

 

Saw crosses his arms over his chest and Steela, Lux, and Dalla share a knowing look. Saw’s the unofficial leader already, and Obi-Wan practically minting him just gave his ego a major boost. 

 

_ Maybe that won’t be so bad,  _ Dalla muses.  _ If he’s the leader, and he’s happy, then he just might agree with what I have to say, if I say it. He seems like an okay person.  _

 

_ “May the force be with you all.”  _ Kenobi bows, and the hologram flickers out.

 

Silence falls over the room for a hot second. 

 

“So,” Dalla speaks up when it’s clear nobody else will. “I guess Lux and I are going to be pressing our noses to the diplomacy grindstone.” 

 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Lux admits. “We’ll have to decide what connections to use, or even what connections we have left.”

 

“There might be a way to secure Bremon Kira through the lower houses. My aunt said he was married once, and he really loved his wife. Maybe if we approach her family --.” Saw snorts and she glares at him. “It’s not funny!” 

 

“In context? With you saying it? Yeah, it is,” he whispers to her and then speaks up so the rest of the group can hear. “Whether or not these two can get the old man on board, we need to build on our momentum and continue our attacks to keep them off balance.”   

 

“We have to assure the people first,” Lux implores, making a sweeping gesture to indicate the thousands outside the safehouse. “If we keep disrupting their lives, we risk alienating them. We have to gain their trust.” 

 

Dalla smiles a tiny smile at him.  _ Don’t worry about becoming king, Lux. You sound like one already, looking after his people.  _ Her smile falters.  _ But Saw’s right too. We have to be loved, but we also have to be feared. If we don’t do that, then someone will try to trample us.  _

 

“I agree with both of you,” Steela says. “We can balance both. We also need to recruit others to join us.”

 

And she spins with a dancer’s grace to face the rest of the rebels, turning her back to Saw and Lux and Dalla. “Onderon is ours!” she shouts. “We will remind everyone, and  _ keep  _ reminding them, until we get it back!” 

 

She thrusts her fist into the air as the room erupts into cheers. 

 

“Freedom!” 

 

“For Onderon!” 

 

Dalla whistles and applauds. “Has anyone told her she could be a Lady?” 

 

“I have,” Lux winks.

 

The cheers die down when Dono stands on top of the crate she’s been using as a chair. 

 

“All in favor of Steela as our leader, raise your hand!” 

 

Steela freezes. Saw freezes. Everyone else’s hands go up as if pulled by magnetic force. 

 

Dalla keeps hers down and she would elbow Lux to do the same if he wasn’t shoving his in his pockets already. Saw looks around the room at the voters and his face flashes shock, disappointment, and finally betrayal. 

 

“Okay,” he says, every word an effort to tramp down his emotions. “Looks like it’s been decided. You’re the leader.” 

 

He gives his sister’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, then throws back the rest of his drink and storms out of the room. 

 

“Saw,” Steela begins and starts to go after him. 

 

Lux gently grabs her wrist. “Let him go. He just needs to blow off steam. He’ll be back.”

 

Steela sighs and slides his hand off hers. “I can’t.” 

 

Dalla gets it. “Do you want backup?” 

 

Steela shakes her head and rushes out of the room, only to be stopped at the door by Ahsoka. 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“He’s my brother.” 

 

When she rounds the corner Ahsoka and Lux stare at the empty hallway, dumbfounded. 

 

Hero breaks the silence. “Well it looks like we won’t have to cut Steela off after all.”  

 

Dalla touches Lux’s upper arm to get his attention. “Lux, we do need to talk about the other houses. Briefing room?”

 

Ahsoka turns around and Dalla pulls her hand back as fast as she can. She really hopes Ahsoka didn't take that the wrong way. 

 

Thankfully Lux treats it as the professional invitation it is. “Briefing room sounds like the best option,” he says and leads the way out. 

 

Dalla feels Ahsoka’s eyes boring into the back of her head the entire walk to the briefing room. 

 

_ It’s not me you have to worry about,  _ she thinks bitterly. She and Lux are bannermen definitely, friends maybe, but certainly nothing more. From the look on Steela’s face whenever she lays eyes on him, or vice versa, it’s clear where Lux’s heart lies. If Ahsoka gives her any grief, Dalla decides, she’s going to tell it to her in plain Basic and hope she doesn’t get lightsaber-fried for it. That's probably going to be harder than it sounds. 

 

Lux shuts the door of the briefing room behind them and boots up the holotable. 

 

“Treating with Bremon Kira directly is impossible,” he says, bringing up a map of the planet. “Unless we have some kind of leverage with them, getting the other clans on our side without his support will be next to impossible.” 

 

“My aunt is a Rupingwood, but I think she’s the only one left.”

 

“I don’t see any Rupingwood in the Beast Rider clans, so I think you’re right.” 

 

“Your family has alliances with other houses, right?” She crosses her fingers behind her back. 

 

Lux looks back down at the map. “Not exactly. My mother mainly made alliances with other senators, in the galactic theater. On the planetary level, we only have banners with House Dendup, mainly because he’s our kin, and with your family.” 

 

“We don’t have any oaths in the south except with you,” she glares at the holotable. “Great. If Kira stays out of this the Beast Riders will too. Rash  _ had  _ to know this when he took the throne!” 

 

“More like his mother did,” Lux scoffs. 

 

“I’ve heard about her. Never been happier that someone’s dead.” If Lady Rash was still alive, Dalla doesn’t want to think of where she would be now. Probably wearing red in the royal palace. “Nevermind. Third time’s the charm, right? If Steela and Saw go together, they might be able to get him to join now that he sees what we’re made of. And if we’re going to do that, we need them to be able to work together.” 

 

“How are we to do that? Saw isn’t one to forget a blow to his ego quickly, especially if Steela’s around.” 

 

“Think you can speed up his amnesia if I get Steela out of the base for the morning?” 

 

“Yes, but she won’t want to go.” 

 

“I’ll come up with something,” Dalla shrugs and then it hits her. “Lux? How are we doing on groceries?” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading. I'm also pleased to announce we have a new topic in the forum: the Beast Master’s Guidebook, a reference on the many creatures of Onderon. Feel free to check it out!


	22. The Captain's Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was raised by a single father who had no idea how to answer feminine questions, and he spent most of puberty on a ship with a bawdy crew. They might be a little awkward, but they're honest and selfless and, let's face it, absolutely perfect for each other. ~ DK

Lana was the first down the gangplank, when the ship docked. She snatched up Dalla from the nurse and hugged her daughter tightly. 

 

Shara looked on the reunion with a smile while she made her own descent. And then the solid ground beneath her feet seemed to sway. She’d forgotten about that lovely effect of sea travel. Eyes down to steady herself, she was surprised to see a little ball of white fur come gamboling up to her and then the bluest eyes she had ever seen looked up into hers as it gave a little yip. 

 

“That’s right, Portia. Say hello to your new Mummy.” Jamos was following behind the adorable creature with a hesitant grin on his face. 

 

He needn’t have worried if Shara would like the gift. She scooped the creature up immediately. “What’s this?” 

 

“She’s a norcog, her name is Portia, and… she’s yours.” He stood back enjoying her reaction. 

 

Shara cooed at the pup and nuzzled her soft fur. “She’s beautiful! Is she really mine?” She cuddled the pup to her chest and looked at Jamos over the fuzzy head.

 

He nodded happily.

 

Her smile was thanks enough. “Norcog? That’s a... northern cognine, right?” She held out the pup and looked it over. “I didn’t think they were this small.” 

 

Portia yipped and licked her new mummy’s face. Shara giggled. 

 

“Just give her a couple of years.” Jamos laughed. “She’ll be big as a dalgos.” 

 

“She’s perfect. Thank you.”

 

…

 

For about a week and a half the pet parents were every bit as attentive to their new baby girl as Dalla’s parents were with her after their long separation. Jamos and Shara shared equally in the responsibility of feeding and training and playing with the norcog, along with cleaning up her messes. It made for a marvelous distraction from waiting around for the day when Shara could send negative test results to Iziz. It also meant that the three of them spent nearly every moment together. 

 

It was a surprise to Jamos, therefore, when he went and knocked on Shara’s bedroom door one morning and she didn’t want to get out of bed. The door in question had been fixed with a sensor and alarm mechanism so that no one of the male gender could enter. Lana had been the one to help Shara get settled and hang the picture of she and her mother. Shara said she was very comfortable there. Though she hadn’t spent much time in her new room other than sleeping, till today.

 

“Could you get Lana for me?” Shara called through the door.

 

“Aye, of course.” Jamos was away like a shot.

 

Shara snuggled back into the covers of her warm bed. She had already visited the ‘fresher that adjoined her room and gotten all the confirmation she needed. Lana had supplied her with everything necessary. The cramps that cut through her like a knife were actually reassuring. 

 

Equally reassuring were the little yips and barks of the narcog on the floor next to her bed. The pup’s name had been officially lengthened to Portia Hadassa Rupingwood-Blackwell. She would grow into it. Shara was glad if she was never fated to have children of her own, she and Jamos would at least have their furbaby. 

 

Shara knew she shouldn’t do it. Bringing the pup up onto the bed with her would be setting a precedent and she’d never be able to train her to stay down after this. Still, she couldn’t help herself. She scooped up the ball of fluff and settled Portia snugly on her lap. 

 

The relief was immediate, like a living hot water bottle on her aching stomach. Shara sighed. She remembered the first time she had felt those cramps that always signaled the beginning of her cycle. That along with her first show of blood, Shara had been sure she was dying. She’d been so afraid to tell her father that he was going to lose her just like he had lost her mother. 

 

So Shara had run to the only place she could think of, the dalgos barns. It was her father’s favorite place and he’d taught her to love it too. She was crying in an empty stall when Edda Gerrera had found her and explained that this was normal, that it was supposed to happen, every month. She had let Shara in on the secret then that she was off the hook for a while. Edda had just found out that she was expecting. 

 

Edda had told Shara that she could always come to her if she had any questions. It was the downside to growing up with a single father. He didn’t really discuss things like that with her. She remembered him once, before Edda explained so concisely that human females came into season just like any other creature, telling her that she might feel ‘different’ after her 13th lifeday. 

 

Perhaps he’d thought that he’d never have to explain things to her, after the plague, the dalgos flu, that had taken her mother and Bremon’s parents and so many others. The animals had it first, before it mutated and passed to humonoids. The mares who had managed to survive it were all left sterile. 

 

It could be that their fruitless trying wasn’t Sanjay’s fault at all. But Edda had told her it was a good sign that her cycle was so strong and regular. Just like a chronometer, that was Shara. And the Rashes’ midwife droid hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with her. Of course she’d never told them she was a plague survivor… 

 

Another knock on the door startled her out of her memories. “Shara, it’s Lana. Did you need me for something?”

 

“Yes, please come in.” Shara didn’t rise from the bed as Lana entered and shut the door again behind her. She did sit up a little straighter and Portia hopped up and yipped at the newcomer. 

 

“Did you start?” Lana asked in an expectant whisper. 

 

Shara nodded and rolled her eyes. “Right on schedule.” Then she winced as a little paw stepped in an uncomfortable spot on her abdomen. 

 

“Do you want a pain stim?” Lana frowned sympathetically. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

Lana gave Portia a pat on the head and a scratch under the chin. “I’ll get that for you.” She smiled. “And the med scanner. We’ll have those test results down to Iziz before breakfast.” 

 

“Thank you, so much.” 

 

…

 

After the stim started to take effect and the knowledge that the test results were delivered, Shara felt more like leaving her room and joining the rest of the Blackwells. 

 

Jamos approached her cautiously.  “Are you… feeling better?”

 

“I am, thank you.” She smiled shyly at him. 

 

He looked thoughtful. “So, for sure you’re not…I mean Lana explained it to me. I’m fracking glad I’m not female.” His eyes widened apologetically. “I’m glad you are… not that you have to go through all that, but… you know what I mean.”

 

She nodded, blushing. 

 

Lana had explained to her that Marlon and Jamos’s father had given Jamos the Polaris when he was 12. Alon Blackwell had been in the last stages of his disease. He and his wife didn’t want their younger son to have to witness it. 

 

He died when Jamos was 13. As such, the aspiring, young captain had spent much of his teen years at sea, as far away from the Hold as he could manage. And most of his education about females, in those formative years, came from the members of his crew. 

 

Lana had had a lot of awkward questions to answer when she and Marlon got married and even more when she became pregnant with Dalla. She assured Shara that she had set Jamos straight. But Shara didn’t see anything wrong with that, not when what she didn’t learn from Edda, came from watching mating dalgos or personal experience that she didn’t care to remember. 

 

“So in… five to seven days you’ll be ready to go on that fishing trip?” he asked hopefully.

 

Shara smiled. “Definitely.” 

 

… 

 

The captain was waiting for the beast master as she was winched up to the deck just as he had been after her first amazing catch. This equally successful performance would ensure a grand payout to all of the crew aboard the Polaris and food aplenty for the winter months when the boats were frozen in their harbors. 

 

Shara wasn't thinking about that now. Jamos hadn't presumed to bring a cloak to wrap around her shoulders this time. She almost wished he had as she shivered, smiling up at him. And then he couldn't help himself. He drew her close and kissed her to a rousing chorus of 'The Captain's Lady’. She didn't push him away, even when she heard the booming laugh of Marlon Blackwell somewhere in the crowd of sailors. 

 

“You're not going to slap me this time?” Jamos asked close to her ear.

 

She shook her head, gazing into his eyes. Something passed wordlessly between them. He took her hand and led her through the chaos and away from their chaperon. 

 

Technically she was free. The test results had been sent to the Rashes. She wasn't carrying their heir. Still, Sanjay had yet to sign the documents that would make their annulment official.

 

Shara had so badly wanted to go on another fishing voyage before the weather turned cold and all the signs were pointing to a harsh winter. Jamos meant to honor his promise that she could. So the whole family had come. 

 

Lana and Shara were given the Captain's cabin to share with little Dalla as it was the most spacious and comfortable. Jamos slung up his hammock with his brother, who was acting as first mate, in the smaller cabin. 

 

It was this latter cabin that he led her to now since Lana had opted to keep the baby in the larger one during the confusion of bringing the catch on deck. Shara and Jamos had only Marlon to evade in their flight. They were assisted by the crew who thought it a marvelous game to close ranks behind the couple to aid their escape. Even though the Lord himself didn't make too much of an effort to stop them.

 

With the door of the first mate’s cabin closed and locked behind them, Jamos took her in his arms. “Why is it that forbidding something makes you want it that much more?” He asked.

 

“I don't know.” She breathed.

 

Their lips fused together and his hands started to slip under her soaked leather fishing tunic. “Your skin is like ice!” He worried.

 

“Your hands are so warm…”

 

Her words fueled the desire that was already burning inside him and he groaned against her lips. “Shara, I…”

 

They were interrupted by a firm knock on the door and Lana's stern voice. “Jamos Emoth Blackwell, take your hands off that girl and unlock this door this instant!”

 

He growled with frustration. “How about if we just ignore her?”

 

Shara smiled and touched his bearded cheek tenderly. “We’d better do what she says.”

 

“Alright.” He kissed her forehead. “If that's what you want?”

 

Another impatient knock sounded on the door.

 

“In a minute!” Jamos called out and then raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

 

Shara nodded, lowering her eyes. “I'm sorry, Jamos. I know…”

 

“No.” He gently lifted her chin so she would look at him again. “If you're not ready then… Shara, you are worth waiting for.”

 

“Jamos!” Lana called from outside the door.

 

“Coming!” He yelled back.

 

Shara giggled.

 

He grinned at her and kissed her once more before unlocking and opening the door.

 

Shara stepped out and made sure to stay between Jamos and his angry sister-in-law. “Don't be too hard on him. I went willingly.”

 

Lana touched her arm and tutted. “You're freezing. We really should get you out of those wet things…”

 

“Well I was trying…” Jamos smirked.

 

Lana glared at him. “Shara could do with a hot bath and you…” she shoved him away, “need a cold shower.” 

 

...

 

A half hour later, after the promised bath and a cup of hot cocoa 'n caf, dressed in a soft dry tunic and skirt and a shawl around her shoulders, Shara found the captain at the rail looking dejectedly out over the sea. She went to stand beside him but not too close and glanced back to see that they were still being observed from across the deck. 

 

He noticed her but didn't let his gaze linger too long. “Are you warmer now?” He asked with honest concern.

 

“I am, thank you.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye wondering if Lana had told him off or if he was just beating himself up for some imagined misstep.

 

“I'm sorry, Shara. I…”

 

“What ever are you apologizing for?”

 

“If you'd let me finish.” He gave her a look of annoyance.

 

She bit her lip and nodded.

 

“Earlier when we…” he tried and then sighed and started over. “When you were… you tried for so long with… and I thought that if you weren't able …” he rushed on to the end. “That if you and I were together it wouldn't matter because there wouldn't be anything to show for it.” 

 

He stared at her for a moment until his meaning suddenly dawned on her. “Oh!” 

 

“It was selfish of me and unfeeling and of course I know that it was most likely all  _ his _ fault that you never… and that if you and I … that there still is the possibility…” she could hear the smile come into his voice. “And as much as I might like… I wouldn't want him to make trouble because you turned up…”

 

“Jamos.” Her voice was soft but it put an end to his tirade. “You're not the only one who's had those thoughts.” Shara had wondered the same thing. If it was impossible for her to get pregnant, then why did it matter if they waited? “But I want to do things right this time. I made such a mess of my first… relationship. You did say that I was, worth the wait?”

 

“And I meant it!” He assured her.

 

Shara smiled and nodded then she glanced behind them. Some of the crew had noticed them standing there talking and gradually while they were having their conversation they had gained a bit of an audience. Then softly one of them had begun to play a tune on his flute. 

 

“That song!” Jamos growled angrily. “I'm sorry, Shara. I've asked them not to. I'll talk to them again, dole out some punishment if I…” but then he stopped. He noticed that she was smiling and what's more she was humming along.

 

He watched her curiously. “You know, in the song… the Captain's Lady is the name of a ship so when it says…”

 

The song said a lot of things and she was perfectly aware that most of them had double meanings concerning the captain and the ship he'd taken a fancy to and the girl with whom he was supposedly discussing the matter. “At least they know I’m already spoken for.”

 

Jamos grunted in agreement and glared at no specific member of his crew in particular.

 

Shara grinned as she took up the verse along with the provided accompaniment,

“Aye, she said when he said he adored her.  

Aye, she said when he said he would board her. 

Aye, she said but he'd never afford her. 

All for the Captain's Lady.”

 

“You can sing.”

 

“Well, don’t act so surprised. We beast riders do have songs of our own. A few of them far worse than any of the bawdy sailors’ ballads I’ve heard from your crew.” 

 

Jamos smirked out at the waves. “I did ask them to clean it up a bit with you and Lana and Dalla aboard.” 

 

“Ah,” said Shara. “That explains it. My father’s friends never did when they were ‘round the campfire at the Summer Fete and thought I’d gone to sleep with my head on his shoulder.” It was a bittersweet memory with her father so recently gone. He had always rather had her at his side than alone in the tent, no matter how colorful the song lyrics had gotten in her presence. 

 

“I could ask them to teach you the other verses.” Jamos turned to look at her offering it like a challenge. 

 

She accepted with a nod. “I’d like to hear the whole story.” 

 

While they’d been talking the piper had been joined by a few other amateur musicians among the men. Shara’s foot was already tapping along. “But that can wait.” Impulsively she reached out and took Jamos’s hand. “Can you dance as well, Captain?” 

 

His free hand went to her waist and he spun her in time to the music. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 


	23. Get In Loser, We're Going Shopping!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dalla’s off with the rebellion’s new leader in search of groceries. And political intrigue, of course. - LS

Considering the hour Steela stumbled into bed and how much she drank last night, it's no wonder she doesn't wake up at her usual hour. 

 

It's also no wonder Ahsoka helped clear out the dormitory to execute Dalla and Lux’s plan. If it meant getting Steela and Dalla out of the safehouse, then there was really no question. It's too bad; Dalla gets the feeling they’re on the same page about most everything except Lux. 

 

When the sun’s well into the sky Dalla walks into the ladies’ dormitory, now completely empty except for Steela, and shakes her awake. 

 

Steela winces in the bright light. “Dalla? Where is everybody?”

 

“Ahsoka, Lux, and I have them on their assignments. It's midmorning.”

 

“It's  _ what?”  _ Steela’s head snaps around to the chronometer on the wall. “Oh, my gods. I slept this late?”

 

“You were putting down ale pretty good last night,” Dalla points out. “I've had crew sleep later on less.” 

 

“I can't believe this.” Steela scrambles out of bed and shoves on her boots. “They elected me leader last night and then I slept in till midmorning. Such a great example.”

 

“It's not exactly a shining moment, but they understand.” Dalla shrugs. “And also, I covered for you.” 

 

Steela turns around. 

 

“You covered for me?” 

 

“I told them you and I were going to the market to get groceries and that’s why you weren’t around.” 

 

The point sinks in for Steela. “So they think I’m at the market?” 

 

“Well they think you’re making the list, so we’ve yet to actually go to the market but aye, basically -- oof!”

 

Steela ambushes her in a quick hug. “You are a lifesaver! We just have to make a list and go?” 

 

Dalla holds up a piece of scrap flimsi with a grocery list scrawled on the back in Lux’s neat handwriting. “Lux helped.”  

 

“You two are the best.” She hooks her utility belt to her waist. “Just give me a second and I’ll be ready to go. Thank you for saving me!” 

 

“You’re welcome,” Dalla winks at her and lifts the scarf from around her neck. “I'll be waiting.”

 

After Steela emerges, Dalla has her scarf wrapped to her satisfaction, and all the last-minute edits are added to the list, they take the back streets into the market. 

 

“Do you have a favorite merchant?” Dalla asks when they walk through the main gate. She has to yell to be heard over the hubbub. 

 

“We have a few. Some of them hike their prices for no reason, but most of them are fair,” Steela directs them over to a stall selling produce. “That guy’s going to be our first stop.”

 

While Steela negotiates the sale, Dalla hopes the two of them won't rocket through the errand too fast. The entire point of going shopping is to give Saw some time away from Steela so Lux and Ahsoka can snap him out of his self-pity. And since it’s Saw they're talking about, that exchange is going to have some fireworks Steela can't be around to see. 

 

“I'm not paying that much for muja fruit!” Steela shouts. “Take them out. We’ll only take the vegetables.”

 

“You’re killing me, lady,” the merchant sighs. 

 

“It's your own fault, expecting us to pay eight cred per pound,” Dalla mumbles under her breath This time of year fruit isn't even that expensive up north. 

 

The merchant sighs. “Fourteen cred,” he growls and hands them the vegetables. 

 

Dalla counts the produce while Steela hands the merchant the credits. 

 

“Is Rash eating up the fruit supply or is that guy just a crook?” She rolls her eyes. “The guy running the stall last time I was here, I could handle, but this one’s a piece of work.”

 

“It's not just him,” Dalla says, her eyes boggling when she sees a sign advertising the price of fish.  _ “Holy kriff!  _ We don't even charge that much for premium fillets!” 

 

“Those are the river fishermen,” Steela explains. “They get the freshwater fish you guys don't.”

 

“Do your freshwater fish have golden scales?”

 

“No,” Steela scowls. “When your father declared against the Rashes and set up the trade embargo, our merchants didn’t have fish stored away since they were expecting your summer catches. The freshwater merchants have a monopoly, and they’re taking advantage of it. They’re having a field day.” 

 

“Leeches,” Dalla grumbles. Northern fishermen have more respect for barnacles than the rivermen, who sometimes try to make them pay for passage on the river. She scans the merchants’ stalls to see if she recognizes any of them and relaxes a little when she doesn’t. It’s unlikely anyway the same people who run the ships would run the stalls. Of course there’s nothing. 

 

_ Hang on, that can't be -- _

 

“I would have bought fish but from the looks on people’s faces over there, they’re not haggling down.” Steela looks at the list. “Lux put down  _ that  _ much booze? How much did we go through last night?” 

 

Dalla squints at one of the stalls and then tugs on her friend’s hand. “We’re getting fish.”

 

“We can’t afford fish at those prices.” 

 

“Then we’re going to go window shopping for fish,” she says and makes a beeline for the stall. 

 

“Why would --?” Steela jogs to catch up with her. “Oh no. I’ve seen that look on Saw way too much.” 

 

Dalla gestures to the stall with her chin. “See the merchant with the yellow striped awning?”  

 

“He’s got a line,” Steela observes. 

 

“Aye, because he’s got the monopoly within a monopoly. Those fish he’s dealing with right now? They’re called rupingfish. They only live up north.” 

 

Steela shares a look with her. “They could be frozen.” 

 

“They really don’t look like they were frozen but I need to get closer to be sure.” She turns her beeline into a leisurely stroll to match Steela’s pace and they poke over to the fish stalls, starting first at a freshwater merchant on the right and then ducking past the stall with the yellow awning. Dalla’s eye goes to the fish. Yes, all saltwater species. And no, they are definitely not frozen. 

 

“And the verdict is?” Steela asks when they wind up away from the fish portion and over toward the section specializing in handcrafted goods. 

 

“They smell fresh. If I had to guess I’d say they got here this morning. Which means the ship they came here on would still be in the harbor.”

 

Steela reads her mind. “We’re here for groceries!”

 

“If one of the northern clans is breaking the embargo we need to know who it is,” Dalla protests. “If they're doing this behind my father’s back then who knows what else they’re doing? It's not like it'll be some huge deal. All we have to do is go past the docks and look. No one will notice!”

 

Steela looks at the grocery list, then at the contents of their bags.

 

“We finish the shopping first,” she compromises. “Your boat is still going to be here in fifteen minutes.”

 

“Tell me what we need and we’ll split up.” 

 

…

 

“No one will notice, my foot,” Steela laments. “We stick out like sore thumbs.”

 

It's more that Steela sticks out, warily eyeballing each craft in the harbor. Dalla flashes her a reassuring smile “If we get stopped, here's the story. We’re on a grocery run for the captain of one of these ships. I'm a deckhand, you’re from the merchant's helping me carry stuff.” 

 

Steela unceremoniously puts another vegetable in Dalla's box. 

 

“What was that for?”

 

“If you're the deckhand then you would be carrying more.”

 

Dalla scowls at her with mock annoyance. “So this isn't about us being on the docks?”

 

Steela smirks. “It's one of the perks of leadership. Now tell me what we’re looking for so we can get back to base.”

 

“She would be a clipper. Three masts, wooden hull, sleek design. If they're breaking the embargo they'll want to be fast. There’ll be a banner on the top of the main mast.” She squints against the midday sun. “Tell me if you see one.” 

 

“Why would smugglers fly a banner?” Steela balances her box of groceries on her hip and shields her eyes.

 

“They don't think there's anyone down here who would reveal them to the North. It's a pride thing. They’d only look more suspicious if they didn’t do it, like if you...I don’t know, didn’t saddle a ruping?” 

 

“That would be bad,” Steela checks the other side of the dock. “It looks like mostly riverboats, except for a few larger ships to the east. Two are definitely Rash banners, the last one might be an offshoot. The whole serpent instead of just the head?” She looks closer. “No, not a serpent. It’s a squiggle.” 

 

“It’s a stream,” Dalla groans. “I should have guessed.” If there were any walls within a reasonable distance she would bang her head against one. The absolute last thing she needs at the moment is having to deal with these people. 

 

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say they’re not your friends.” 

 

“It’s the Bralykburns. They’re pirates.” Dalla puts the box of groceries down; they’re going to be here for a while. “When their catches don’t go well, they go reaving and pirate the other clans’ ships. They must have thought the chance to sell behind House Blackwell’s back was too good to pass up.” 

 

Steela gestures to the box. “Grab that and let’s get a closer look. We wouldn’t be standing still if we’re on an errand.” Dalla complies and Steela whispers into her ear. “Tell me more.  _ Quietly.”  _

 

“They hate us,” Dalla whispers. “It’s an old family feud; they pirate, we shut them down, they try other dirty tricks and we have to stop them. The only reason they bent the knee to us in the first place is because our navy is bigger than theirs and we have most everyone else on our side.” 

 

“They’re the underdogs of the north?” 

 

“Not by a long shot. They think we sold out to the south, or our beastmasters are stealing the fish away from them, or we’re hoarding the north for ourselves.” She rolls her eyes. “My uncle always says if Lord Bralykburn got a cold he would find some way to blame House Blackwell.” 

 

Steela looks over her shoulder to the Bralykburn ship. “Tell me something. Do they hate your family enough to harm one of you directly?”

 

“Huh?” She searches her memory banks. “They try to pirate our ships all the time, and when my father and uncle held negotiations with them a long time ago they blocked their transmissions. One of us could easily have been hurt with that.” 

 

“No threats toward you or your brothers?” 

 

“Not personally. Not that I know of.”  

 

“Here’s why I’m saying this. Their ship is docked right next to the Rash vessels.” 

 

Dalla bleaches from the implication. “Oh salt gods -- if he paid them enough!”

 

“They’d sell you to him?” 

 

“Without question.” She can’t believe she didn’t think of it before. “If he pays them, or offers them a higher position and a chance to burn the Blackwells, they wouldn’t think twice about it. Oh  _ no.”  _

 

“They don’t know you’re here,” Steela reminds her, speeding them up. 

 

“That only keeps me safe. What about everyone else?” If the Bralykburns even think about laying a hand on Thias or Cade or any of her cousins, Dalla will tear them apart with her bare hands. “That’s not to mention if Rash gets them on his side and they use their navy. My father won’t know anything’s wrong until they’ve gotten past the Hold’s gates. We wouldn’t have a chance!” 

 

They reach the street and Steela directs them toward the Bralykburns. 

 

“When we get closer look on deck and tell me if you think they might be here to treat with Rash.” 

 

_ Look for nobility.  _ As the deck comes closer into view Dalla scans it and the docks immediately surrounding it.  _ Deckhand, sailor, deckhand, that guy looks like the galley cook. _

 

“None of the family members are on board so it doesn’t look like they are at this time,” she whispers. “But when Rash sees the ship, and he will see her if she’s docked so close to his, he won’t waste time. He’ll find out why they’re breaking the embargo and when he does he’ll approach them with terms. We can’t let that happen.” 

 

Her head spins. The only way to keep the Bralykburns from accepting Rash’s terms is to make sure they’re too scared to. And the only way to do that… 

 

“Steela, is anyone using the holotable back home for something urgent?” 

 

“I don’t think so. Why?” 

 

“We’re going to need it.” 

 

Steela reads her mind. “Uh-uh, no way are you contacting them. Not with their ships in the harbor. I forbid it and Lux will too.”

 

_ “I _ wasn’t planning on it,” Dalla says. “How do you feel about getting a house alliance that can actually give your firepower?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading, and please don’t hesitate to talk with DK and I in the review box or the forum. We promise we don’t bite. -LS


	24. Salt and Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the forum we outlined a little of what goes on during the northern celebration of the salt and light festival. Now for the first time Shara gets to experience what it's all about.

Night One

Even though Lana and Marlon had invited her to stay, Shara still felt like an outsider. She'd been telling them for weeks now that she could just move into the inn, maybe get a job in the pub during the off season. But it was just that, the off season, and the pub had no need of any employee other than Maris Flint who was one of the few who had chosen to stay at the Hold rather than go home to her own clan for the holiday. 

 

Maris had her reasons for staying. Shara had seen the way she and the pub keeper’s son, Ness, gazed at each other. It probably wouldn't be long before the waitress was a part of the family. Shara didn't begrudge her the position one bit. 

 

Maris had in fact become a good friend. So it didn't seem out of the ordinary at all for Shara to be sitting here at the bar, sipping at a mug of weak ale, and waiting for her friend to return from the storeroom with a package that had just been delivered.

 

“That was clever, havin’ it sent here.” Maris grunted as she lifted the heavy box up onto the counter. “Looks like just another food delivery for the pub. Am I allowed to ask what's inside it?” The waitress placed her left hand atop the box and tapped it with her fingers. She was wearing a brylk bone ring set with a pearl and two small flecks of diamond, and she seemed very keen on having someone notice it. 

“Of course.” Shara stood, missing the display, and began opening excitedly. “Lana invited me to join their family for the feast and I didn't want to come empty handed. I remembered an old recipe of my mother's but I didn't have all of the ingredients and I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

 

At the sight of the contents of the package, Maris completely forgot to be miffed. “Are those ripe jogans, and mujas, and… melooruns?” 

 

“They're supposed to be.” Shara frowned down at the almost too perfect arrangement with the critical eye of a gardener. These had been forced to ripen out of season, probably injected with some kind of hormones, waxed and polished, their skins more than likely dyed to achieve that sort of brilliant color. She couldn't see how they could possibly taste half so good as the fruits plucked right off the tree and taking that first bite with the juice running down your chin…

 

“I've never seen them like this, only the pictures on the cans and jars of preserves.” Maris’s wistful voice brought Shara out of her memory.

 

“Never?” Shara could hardly believe her ears. “Well, we’ll change that. We're researching how to build a greenhouse and then we'll have fresh produce year round at the Hold. That'll have the customers keeping you busy here at the pub and for a fraction of what it cost to ship this lot.” She frowned thinking of what she had paid for the holiday gift assortment. It had been most of what was left in her account after transferring the balance of the credits for her father's medical bills. And she wouldn't be earning any more till she could go out with the Polaris’ crew and perform her beast mastering duties again in the spring. 

 

“We?” Maris again drew her attention, wiggling her fingers over the box of fruit where Shara had been staring.

 

“We?” Shara repeated. She had noticed the ring this time but was lost.

 

Maris smiled, now holding her hand up by her face and still showing off her new jewelry. “You said ‘ _ We _ will change that’ and ' _ we're _ researching’. It's the captain you're talkin’ about, isn't it?”

 

Shara ignored the comment and jumped at the chance to change the subject. “Ness asked you?” She grabbed Maris's hand and pulled it closer to get a better look at the ring.

 

“Salt gods know it took him long enough.” The waitress laughed. She said it as a joke but Shara knew Maris was at least a decade older than herself and could see the relief along with the joy in her expression that she was finally going to be a wife. 

 

“Ever since we were caught up at Lady Lana's wedding I've been sure it was only a matter of time.” Maris continued.

 

“Caught up?” Shara had never heard the term before.

 

Maris cocked her head to one side and asked, “Don't the bride and groom toss the net at your southern weddin’s?”

 

“No.” She and Sanjay certainly hadn't done anything like that at their wedding. Though there was quite a bit left out of their ceremony that had thankfully made their annulment that much easier. If Sanjay would ever get around to signing the documents. Maybe he planned on stringing things out forever.

 

“The minister does join the hands of the couple and wrap them with a bindin’ before they say the words though, doesn't he?” Maris inquired.

 

“Yes, that part is the same.” Shara assured her. Sanjay had at least gotten that part right only because Melaana had pressed the binding cloth she and Brem had used into Shara's hands with a wink before the two of them left on their honeymoon.

 

“Well,” Maris explained. “Up here the bindin’ cloth is a silk net. It's reminiscent of our fishin’ nets. Then after the ceremony all the unmarried folks come forward and the bride and groom throw out the net to see who will be caught up in it. The tradition says that the couple who get caught up will have the next weddin’ that the salt gods smile on.” 

 

Shara wasn't exactly unmarried, not yet anyway. But Maris was grinning at her.

 

“Surely you and the captain will be the next ones caught up.” Maris nudged her playfully. “Ness said the whole crew was callin’ you the Captain's Lady on the last voyage he took on the Polaris.”

 

“Oh well, they were just teaching me the song.” Shara evaded, blushing. “It reminded me of some of the beast rider songs that we used to…”

 

“It's more’n that.” Maris continued to needle her. “I've seen the way our young captain looks at you when he's brought you in here for dinner.”

 

“That was with Lana and Marlon… the whole family. It wasn't like it was a… It wasn't a date.”

 

“Only because the Lord and Lady think the two of you are in need of a chaperone, eh?” The waitress beamed triumphantly.

 

“Please Maris, I don't know where you get these ideas.” Shara stood from her stool and would have rushed off, embarrassed if she hadn't remembered the box of fruit that sat open on the bar between them. She stared at it a moment and then hurriedly began extracting one or two of each of the fruits she would need for her recipe.

 

“Ah now, Shara.” Maris looked contrite. “Don't go off angry. I was only teasin’.” 

 

Shara sighed and tried to calm herself. “I'm not angry. I just… I should get going if I'm going to have this cake done in time for the feast.”

 

The waitress still felt the need to apologise. “I'm so happy… with Ness, and I want you and the captain to be happy as well.”

 

“Of course you are, and you do.” Shara focused on placing the fruits she had chosen, carefully into a canvas bag. “Ja- th- the captain and I. We haven't known each other all that long. We certainly haven't made any sort of…”

 

“You're happy here at the Hold with the Blackwells?” Maris asked more gently.

 

Shara looked back up at her with a shy smile and nodded. “Yes.” The only thing she could imagine making her happier was if her father was alive to see it.

 

Maris had to stand on her toes to reach over the bar and wrap her arm around the younger girl’s shoulders in a hug. “Then it'll all work out. You'll see. 'Sides it's the salt and light festival. We're supposed to be thankful for what we've got and look forward to what's to come.”

 

“Thank you, Maris.” Shara sighed. She was thankful to the salt gods for bringing her here. On an impulse she pushed the still half full box of fruit towards her friend. “I want you to have the rest.”

 

The waitress's eyes grew as large as the jogans still in the container. “You can't be serious.”

 

“No, I am.” Shara laughed. “I have what I need and it's salt and light … and think of it as an engagement gift!”

 

“Well, I'm that pleased, Shara,” said Maris with tears of gratitude in her eyes. “Ness and I and Father… we sure will enjoy them!”

 

Night Two

“You just gave us your gift a night early.” Marlon tried to reassure her as he took a large bite of the fruit cake left over from the feast the night before.

 

Shara had a piece of the cake on a plate as well but she wasn't hungry for it. It had turned out as well as she remembered her mother's but she'd seen the stack of gifts that the family were going to exchange for the second night of the festival and she had seen her own name on a couple of the tags. She didn't have anything to give in return.

 

It made her feel uncomfortable and she would have liked to just go to her own room and snuggle with Portia and maybe read a book. Lana however wouldn't hear of it. She had plopped Dalla down in Shara's lap and told her that it wouldn't do for a godmother to miss a child’s first salt and light. And Shara supposed that the others had asked her opinion on a few of the gifts that they had purchased for the little girl, even if she hadn't been able to pay for them herself. 

 

Shara pinched off a morsel of the cake and popped it into Dalla's waiting mouth. Then she couldn't help but smile at the resulting squeal of delight as the baby gummed down the sweet treat and clapped her hands. 

 

“Beese! Beese!” Dalla exclaimed her own made up word that they had come to realize meant something like ‘piece’ or ‘please’, basically “feed me more!”

 

“Alright, here's another.” Shara was a pushover when it came to the little girl. 

 

“Or are you ready to open a present, Chirn Bait?” Jamos tried to entice her over by shaking one of the brightly wrapped packages. 

 

Dalla gave her uncle a sour look and turned back, mouth wide open, to Shara for more cake. They all laughed except for Jamos who sighed dejectedly. “So she hates me now.”

 

“Oh she doesn't hate you.” Shara smiled. “Do you, Dalla?” She nuzzled her goddaughter, making her giggle. “Of course not. We all love Uncle Jamos.” She kept her eyes fixedly away from him, realizing what she had said. Then she slipped Dalla another bite of cake. 

 

“Here why don't you take this?” Lana took Shara's plate and passed it to him. Then she stood back to watch what would happen. 

 

Dalla looked at the place on the table where the plate had been and then up at the woman who had just been feeding her. 

 

“Well?” Shara asked her.

 

The sweet little face broke into a wicked toothless grin before she turned to the man who now held the cake, stretching her arms out to him. “JaJa, Beese!”

 

Lana threw up her hands and cried, “Of course she can say her uncle’s name before she can say 'mama'!”

 

Jamos laughed, taking the baby in his arms. “Aye, that's right my little, Chirn Bait!”

 

Shara settled for pulling Portia up into her lap in the absence of the baby, and none too soon as the puppy had just discovered the pile of presents and was about to tear into them.

 

Most of the presents in the pile were for Dalla, though she hardly seemed to notice them in favor of the cake and the pretty paper. 

 

Lana received a beautiful wooden box from Marlon. The lid was decorated with colorful shells arranged in the shape of a flower. A purple flower, Shara saw, and she remembered from Lana's story about their courtship, that purple was Lana's favorite color. 

 

“Thank you, Nolram.” She kissed his cheek, causing Shara to blush at the small show of affection. 

 

“How about a present for Shara now?” Jamos spoke up but before he could go to get one out of the pile Marlon spoke up.

 

“Here's one with your name on it.” Marlon tossed her a package and Jamos looked a little disappointed.

 

Shara hesitated before opening it. “You all really didn't have to get me anything.”

 

“Yes we did!” Lana told her. “Now get opening!”

 

With a sigh, Shara tore away the paper, dangling a strip of the wrapping in front of Portia and laughing as the puppy attacked, then rolled off the couch onto the floor with her prey. When Shara turned her attention back to the gift, she found a set of oiled leathers. “Thank you,” she began. “But I already have…”

 

“What you have,” Lana smiled. “Are Jamos’s old pair. They were made for a man. And though you gave it a valiant effort, by your own admission, your sewing skills leave a little to be desired.” She made a face.

 

Shara laughed in agreement.

 

“These aren't new either.” Lana continued. “They used to be mine and I took them in a bit so they should fit far better than what you were using. And they come with the promise of some sewing lessons while we're frozen up here for the winter.”

 

Shara looked again at the small perfect stitches. She was touched. Lana hadn't spent a lot of money on her, but she had put a great deal of thought into what her friend would need most. “Thank you,” Shara said again and she truly meant it. Then she noticed and said hurriedly, “She's putting the paper in her mouth again!”

 

Lana grabbed the scrap from Dalla's hand. “You know, we could probably have just wrapped the toys she already has and gotten the same reaction.”   
  
Marlon tried to distract his daughter with one of the toys she had already opened, dancing it around in front of her and saying in a sing song voice, “But then we wouldn't have Mr. Brylk!”

 

Dalla totally ignored it.

 

He tossed the stuffed animal back into the pile. “So, this one's definitely not going to be a beast master.”

 

Portia pounced on Mr. Brylk and Marlon wrestled back the toy, trading it for the rubber rupingfish that had been the puppy's own salt and light gift.

 

“At least I was able to put a stop to Jamos buying her those awful purple mythosaur holovids.” Shara teased, but when she turned, she found him sitting right next to her on the sofa and holding out a badly wrapped gift.

 

“I got something for you.” He gazed at her.

 

“Thank you.” She said gazing back.

 

“You should open it.”

 

“Oh, right!” Shara shook her head with an embarrassed smile. What she drew from the wrapping was cloth, white with some sort of embroidery. “It's colorful,” was the first thing she could think to say as she realized that the stitching formed the pictures of various fruits.

 

“I thought it might remind you of home, of your father. It's a shirt.” Jamos said hopefully.

 

“Well, it…” Shara began.

 

“Hold it up, let's see,” Marlon encouraged.

 

“Alright.” Shara held the shirt up in front of herself for everyone to see that it completely swallowed her. 

 

Lana stifled a giggle.

 

“I wasn't sure what size to get. I didn't want it to be too small.” Jamos frowned with disappointment.

 

Marlon let out a bark of a laugh. “It's definitely not too small.”

 

“Jamos Emoth Blackwell, what have I told you about ordering clothes from cheap HoloNet knockoff retailers?” Lana could no longer hold back her own laughter.

 

Jamos huffed. “You're welcome to send it back.” And he actually reached out to take it. “You can pick out something…”

 

“No,” Shara hugged the awful thing to her chest with a smile. “I love it. I’ll treasure it always.”   
  


He studied her for a moment and then gave her his best little boy grin.

 

Night Three

Shara spent most of the third day of the festival alone in her room. She was preparing herself for what she knew was to come this evening. This was the night set aside to thank the salt gods for the fresh water that the first settlers discovered in their light and as such it was one of only two times a year that those wishing to join the community could be baptized. Shara accepted the gravity of her decision. She was leaving behind her life as a southern beast rider. 

 

She remembered the ceremony she had participated in when Dalla was baptized and she had read the information Lana had given her about how her own would differ. She carefully memorized the words she had to say. The one thing that really worried her, and she was ashamed to admit it, was the moment when the water would be poured over her head. It was freezing outside! She wondered if they would have to break the ice to fill the wooden bowl.

 

And then before she thought she was truly ready, it was time. Lana knocked on her door and Shara proceeded silently, wearing the pure white dress her friend had lent to her for the occasion. Marlon wrapped a heavy cloak around her shoulders and gave her an encouraging pat on the back. The others were all similarly bundled in warm wrappings and coats, even little Dalla who was being held by Lana in a front carrier, for the trek to the pool of the salt god.

 

Marlon had explained to her that they were going by land to the back of the same formation that they had approached by sea for Dalla's baptism. He and Jamos carried Brylk oil lanterns. Then when they had gone a ways down the path two more lights joined them. Shara recognized Ness and his father from the pub and Maris was with them. 

 

Maris reached out and squeezed Shara's trembling hand. Then with seemingly nothing to coordinate its initiation, both Lana and Maris's voices took up a song about going down to the water to pray. Shara felt comforted by the tune and she wished she had more presence of mind to remember the words. She would have to ask Lana to teach it to her later. 

 

When they reached the pool, the men hung their lanterns on poles spaced evenly around it and the light reflected off the water and the salt formation that seemed even larger from this side than it had when they were in the boat six months ago. Perhaps it was only how it appeared from this angle or maybe it was knowing that this time it was her own soul that sought refuge here.

 

Someone helped Shara off with her outer cloak so that she stood shivering in only the borrowed ceremonial dress. The song had ended and she knew it was time for her to say the words. “Y-you,” she stuttered, cleared her throat, and then began again stronger than before. "You have brought me to this place and granted me a new life. Therefore, I promise to live that life in the light of the salt gods with the guidance of those present."

 

She heard the voices of her friends take up the response. “In the light of the salt gods.” 

 

Then Shara pressed her eyes shut and waited for what she was sure would be an icy cascade over her head and shoulders but it didn't immediately come. And her eyes flew open with horror realizing that she hadn't seen anyone carrying the wooden bowl with them as they made their trek to this sacred place. It only lasted a moment however before she felt Jamos lift her off her feet and with an irreverent grin he dropped her into the pool. 

 

It wasn't deep and she soon came up sputtering, “It's warm!”

 

There were happy cries of, “Congratulations!” when she emerged but Shara only saw Jamos's laughing eyes and she glared back at him.

 

Night Four

From sundown on the fourth night of the festival only Brylk oil lanterns were to light their way. There were fires in every hearth for warmth but no electric lights were to be lit. It was the longest night of the year and when the sun rose the next morning it would be the dawning of a new year on the Ondronian calendar. 

 

Marlon and Jamos played game after game of Dejarik. Jamos was sullen and losing repeatedly, most likely because Shara still wasn't speaking to him after his humorous little trick at her baptism the night before. 

 

Dalla had long since been put to bed and even Portia had given up her running around and had snuggled and fallen asleep in Shara's lap. 

 

Lana broke the silence quite suddenly, making Shara jump. “What do you do in Iziz to bring in the new year, Shara?”

 

The brothers looked up from their game and then all three of them were staring at her, waiting for an answer. Shara scrambled for something to say. “Probably similar to what you do here. We usually stay up all night and wait to welcome the first sunrise.” 

 

They were still looking at her as if expecting her to go on. So she sighed and continued. “We watch holos or sing or play games to pass the time.” She gestured towards the dejarik board and then added with a shrug, “Sometimes we share our resolutions, things we'd like to accomplish or change in the new year.”

 

“We used to do something like that with Momma and Dad.” Marlon smiled. “Remember Jamos?”

 

His brother grunted in agreement and turned his focus back to his game pieces trying to salvage his position.

 

“We did too.” Lana spoke up again. “We would go around and each tell one thing that we were thankful for in the old year and one thing we hoped would happen in the new. That could take rather a long time in a Flint household, let me tell you.” She laughed and so did Marlon.

 

Shara smiled politely. Jamos may have rolled his eyes.

 

Lana sighed. “Well, it shouldn't take too long for the four of us. I'll start. The thing I'm most thankful for from the last year is the birth of our beautiful daughter. And in the new I look forward to seeing her learn to walk and talk and develop her own snarky little personality.”

 

Shara's smile warmed. She was also thankful that the little girl had come into her life this year.

 

“Guess it's me next, although you completely pillaged my answer.” Marlon smirked and then glanced around at them all. “I'm thankful that we're all together as a family. I've got my beautiful wife and my baby girl sleeping peacefully in her bed. My brother saw fit to stick around for the holiday and isn't off gods know where on some sea voyage. And we've got Shara with us…”

 

The puppy snuffled in her sleep from Shara's lap.

 

“And I couldn't forget Portia.” 

 

They all chuckled. Even Jamos cracked a grin.

 

Marlon continued. “So in the new year I hope that… that we don't lose sight of that and we all grow closer together.”

 

“Salt gods, Marlon, that has to be the sappiest thing I ever heard come out of your mouth.” Jamos moved one of his game pieces and then lounged back in his chair.

 

“You got something better? Let's hear it.” Lana challenged him.

 

“Fine, it's my turn.” Jamos turned his gaze to Shara. There was a longing there he couldn't disguise so he shrugged and looked away. “I'm thankful that we got two good catches in last season.” He breathed out. “Still it was only the two since I've been hauled up on shore so much this year. I hope I'm able to get back out in the new year, back on the water.” He stood, antsy after being still so long.

 

Lana rolled her eyes and Marlon groaned but Shara spoke up before they could start an argument. “I'm thankful to the salt gods for bringing me north. My year started out fine and then for a while I thought it couldn't get any worse… but then I came here…” Her eyes met Jamos's for a moment before they both looked away. “And I hope in the new year that I can really find my place here. I would like to get out on the water again, and get to work on those greenhouse plans, and spend time with my new friends and Dalla and… all of you…” She kept her eyes fixedly away from Jamos when she finished but she could feel his eyes on her.

 

“And you will do all of those things.” Lana promised before giving a very convenient yawn. “I would love to stay up with you all and ring in the first sunrise but Dalla has kept me up way too late the last few nights. I think I'm ready to just crash into bed.” 

 

No one else moved. Although Shara waited for her chaperone to suggest that it was time for her to return to her room as well.

 

Instead Lana laid a hand on her husband's shoulder and bent to whisper in his ear. “Nolram, would you care to join me? I'm sure Shara could take over your side of the board.”

 

He was up out of the seat in a flash. “You know how to play, don't you, Shar? If not Jamos will catch you up to speed.”

 

“Yeah I think I can…” Shara began but the couple didn't stick around to hear her response. She watched them go, then settled Portia on the couch and stood, stretching a little after sitting so long. She was still considering just going to bed but they had been in the middle of a game so it seemed rude not to finish it. 

 

She crossed the room and sat in the chair Marlon had vacated. She didn't look at her opponent and instead tried to sum up the lay of the board. “I didn't think they were supposed to leave the two of us alone. Is it my turn?”

 

“I don't think either of them looked very tired.” She could hear the smirk in his voice. “No, it's mine.” He made his move. “Now you go.”

 

She was new to the game but she could see that Marlon had been close to winning again and there wasn't much she could do to mess that up. She moved a piece and then watched as Jamos studied the board. 

 

He must have felt her eyes because he glanced up. “So are you speaking to me again?” He made a careless move leaving his piece wide open.

 

“No one else here.” She shrugged, taking his piece casually.

 

He grumbled and then noticed that her move had left her vulnerable in another spot so he took advantage. It must have been a boost to his ego. “So are you enjoying your first salt and light?”

 

“I was.” She considered moving a piece and then second guessed and drew her hand back. She looked up at Jamos and confronted him. “Do you even believe in your own salt gods?”

 

The question caught him off guard. “I… well aye, of course. I always have.”

 

She frowned at him moved a piece and then sighed. “You could have fooled me.”

 

“Look, is this about last night?”

 

Shara leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “That was a big decision for me, being baptized. It was important to my… becoming a part of the north and… you treated it like a game.” She reached forward to swipe over the board and sent the pieces flying.

 

“That wasn't my intention.” He spoke softly. 

 

“Well, what exactly was your intention?”

 

Jamos ran a hand through his hair. “You were so serious. So I guess… I did want to lighten your sails but,” he added hurriedly. “I wouldn't tease you if I didn't…”

 

“Didn't what?” She asked.

 

He hesitated and glanced down the hall before he finished. “If I didn't care for you.”

 

Shara nodded and stood. She knew it was true. She cared for him as well but she couldn't say the words, not yet.

 

He rose as well. “Wait! Don't… I promise I won't…”

 

“And what if I wanted you to?” She challenged but then demurred again. “But you're right we shouldn't.” 

 

He smiled. “You do want to stay up and greet the first sunrise, don't you?”

 

She nodded. 

 

“Then I'll set up the board again.” He bent to retrieve a piece and the straightened. “Or we could watch a holo?”

 

“There is one that we always watched back home this time of year.”

 

Jamos grinned. “I bet I can guess which one!” He rushed over to the projector unit and the cabinet of disks beside it.

 

“I can get us a snack!” Shara hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips, a container of hummus and a couple of drinks.

 

He had already cued up the beginning of the holo when she returned. “Was I right?” He asked pointing to the paused title.

 

“The very one.” It seemed the story of the man who was shown what it would be like if he had never been born, was universal.

 

They settled on the couch with the snack between them so they could both reach.

 

…

 

“Shara?” The voice seemed to rumble softly from her pillow but she was so comfortable she didn't want to pay it any mind.

 

“Shara?” The warm voice was a little more instant this time.

 

“Hmm?” She answered it still not opening her eyes.

 

“The sun's coming up.” She knew that voice. “And my arm’s asleep.”

 

She sat up at once and everything came into focus. She remembered finishing the first holo and starting another. She had requested something a little more exciting to keep them awake but obviously that hadn't worked.

 

The room was still dark, lit only by the Brylk oil lanterns but it was enough for her to see Jamos rubbing life back into his arm and grinning at her.

 

She didn't mention the situation in which they found themselves. “You said the sun was coming up?”

 

“Aye!” He took her hand and was about to lead her to the door but then had a second thought and grabbed a couple of heavy blankets. He wrapped one around her shoulders and pulled the second around his own. “Come on!”

 

Outside, a soft glow was just beginning to light the southeastern horizon. He didn't make a move to touch her other than the hand that he seemed in no hurry to release, as they watched the fingers of first gray and then pale yellow reach up from beyond the edge of the world.

 

“So a new year dawns?” 

 

“Aye.” Shara answered using the sailors’ affirmative, testing the feel of it on her tongue. She glanced to the side and saw his smile in the growing light.

 

“And we sort of had the same wish for the coming year.” He prodded.

 

“To be back out on the water again?” 

 

“Aye.” He turned to face her and pushed a gold strand of her sleep rumpled hair behind her ear. “And there was something else, something I hope for this year but… I didn't want to say it in front of…”

 

As if summoned, Marlon pushed the door open and ushered his wife and daughter out into the chill morning air. “Did we miss anything?”

 

“No.” Jamos grumbled. “As usual, right on time.”

 

Shara squeezed the hand she was still holding, hidden under the blanket and shared a secret smile with the hand’s owner.

 

“Look!” Lana pointed out towards the horizon. Dalla tried to follow her mother's direction, squinted and squealed probably more from the shared excitement of her family members than because of the actual sight.

 

“It's beautiful.” Shara said softly not wanting to spoil the moment. 

 

“Now, look this way.” Jamos only let go of her hand only to take hold of her shoulders and turn her to face the path they had walked down to the pool of the salt god for her baptism. 

 

She gasped. The light of the rising sun reflected off the formation in the distance. She pressed her thumb to her lips and held out her hand towards the brilliance. “In the light of the salt gods.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, the origin of the infamous fruit shirt! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!


	25. Kinslayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again we return to the palace and the machinations of Sanjay Rash, who has no idea Dalla is in Iziz. - LS

Sanjay Rash crunches into the muja fruit, careful the juice doesn't dribble down his chin. If he was in private or with only guards around he wouldn't care a twig, but when Kason Blackwell stops his singing to glare at him, he’s glad the boy hasn't caught him in the unflattering position. 

 

He picks up another fruit and holds it out to Kason. “Would you like one?”

 

Kason holds the glare for a few more seconds and then goes back to his singing in the old language. Sanjay leans back against the throne and listens. The song’s low and soft, like a threat, and even though he doesn't understand the words he's sure it's some Blackwell victory song. If he ever decides to have his new wife sing to him, he'd put credits on the same song coming from her lips. But with the lyrics nothing more than gibberish in his ears, he can focus on the boy’s high, sweet voice. Just like Shara sang to him on their wedding night, though he knew the words of her song spoke only of love. 

 

If he knew the title he'd make Kason sing it for him. But the boy would never sing to bring Sanjay joy. He's only managed to listen this long through reverse psychology. 

 

The victory song ends and Kason makes no move to start it again. 

 

“When was the last time you ate?” Sanjay asks, extending the muja fruit again. It’s an honest question; he doesn’t remember if Dendup and Kason got breakfast this morning, and they certainly didn’t have lunch. 

 

“I don’t want your fruit,” Kason snaps. “I don’t even like fruit.” 

 

Sanjay suppresses a sigh, which only gives Kason more fuel for his disobedience. 

 

“Don’t your teeth rot from all the sugars?” he taunts. “Bet they do. Bet you have cavities everywhere.” 

 

He tries to simply blow off the comment, but it’s not working. He hates the fact a child can get under his skin so easily, but then again Kason Blackwell isn’t most children. He could -- should -- be Sanjay’s and Shara’s child, gazing bright-eyed at his father the king. Instead all Sanjay gets are stony glares and sharp remarks. 

 

Kason does his best to hide a wicked grin but doesn’t entirely succeed. Sanjay’s expression sours.

 

“Bring him here,” he orders. 

 

Two militiamen leave their posts at the door and grab Kason by the arms, hauling him to the foot of the throne. 

 

“Sit.” Sanjay gestures to the black chair to the immediate left of the throne. It's a new addition, made for the queen he plans to seat in it. 

 

Kason scowls at him when the militiamen plunk him in it. 

 

Sanjay places the muja fruit on his lap. “Eat. You need it.”

 

Kason pulls back as if he’s trying to give him a grenade. “I’m not hungry.”

 

“You haven't eaten.” Despite the boy’s claims it’s clear he’s hungry. “Eat the fruit or I’ll have it fed to you.” 

 

The threat of force-feeding clinches it. Kason picks up the fruit with his fingertips and takes the smallest bite he can. 

 

“It's not poison, Kason,” Sanjay scoffs. “I wouldn't put poison in my own fruit bowl!”

 

“Don't call me that,” he mumbles and chomps into the fruit. He definitely hasn't eaten today. 

 

“Call you what? Your name?” Sanjay asks incredulously. “What else am I supposed to call you?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

He rests his head in his hand from exasperation. “Son…”

 

“I'm not your son!”

 

Sanjay jerks at the outburst. “You will watch the way you speak to me!” Dear  _ Nadd,  _ is he going to be getting this the rest of his life from Dalla? 

 

Kason slumps in the chair and ignores the muja fruit, though he still eyes it hungrily. It only took those two bites to whet his appetite. 

 

“Finish it,” Sanjay orders and gestures to the fruit. Kason doesn't look happy about it, but he's still hungry enough to eat. Once the boy's polished off a few more bites he continues. “I’m only trying to take care of you. As a noble hostage, you’re to be provided for while in my household.”

 

“Quit pretending to be nice,” Kason mumbles. “You’re not. You’re just a creep who wants to make my whole family miserable.”

 

“I’ll be good to your cousin,” Sanjay says for what seems like the millionth time. “Once she adjusts to the change I’m sure she’ll be very happy here. I’ll make sure she has everything she needs and I’ll do my duty by her. I would never,  _ never  _ hurt her.” It's the truth. Why would he hurt someone who's to give him the most precious thing in the galaxy? As long as Dalla does her duty, there would be no reason to hurt her. And he can't think of any reason she wouldn't. Melaana certainly didn't have any trouble. 

 

Kason tries to scramble out of the chair before Sanjay can think of his sister anymore. “You’re sending people to steal her! Just like you stole my mom away from her family.”

 

“I loved your mother!” Sanjay raps out. “Did you ever imagine for a moment that it might be your pirate father who stole her away from me? Of course not. It's the winner who gets to write the history of the battle no matter what means they used to obtain the victory."

 

“That’s all my mom was to you? A victory?”

 

Of course not. Shara is so much more. “It's a metaphor. That means --”

 

“I know what a metaphor is. You're not my teacher either,” he sticks his lip out like a child, which Sanjay supposes he is. “My mom and dad are my teachers.” 

 

That restores some of his good mood. “Shara’s a fine teacher. She’s very smart, managed her family’s fruit business all by herself.” He was so impressed when he saw her handle the fruit sale at Rash Estate, all those years ago. “What are you learning now?”

 

Kason scowls and chomps the muja fruit. “You’re trying to be my friend. It’s not gonna work. I’m not your friend and I never will be.” 

 

“If I’m not supposed to treat you like a guest and I’m not supposed to treat you as a friend, then what would you like me to treat you as? A servant?” Sanjay throws up his hands. There are only two bites or so left of the muja, and he’ll take that as a victory. “Fine. If that’s what you want, you can serve me.” 

 

“Want me to bring you another tooth-rotting fruit?” He looks hungry enough to eat the whole bowl. “Maybe a dentist to go along with it.”

 

“No.” Sanjay gets comfortable on the throne once more. “There’s a song I want to hear,” and then he says the first line in his absolute best Onderonian, which isn’t very good. 

 

Kason jerks back. 

 

“No!” he shouts and then lets loose a barrage of Onderonian Sanjay assumes would be better suited for the deck before switching back to Basic. “No way would I sing that to you.  _ You’re not my dad!  _ Get it through your head! My dad is Jamos Blackwell and you can't even hold a spark to him. He's the best dad and you’re nothing but a lying --.”

 

Sanjay lunges forward and grabs the front of the boy’s shirt. Kason stops his diatribe midsentence, frozen in fear. Sanjay pulls him close.

 

“You will never speak to me like that again,” he threatens. 

 

Kason gulps, for once speechless. 

 

Sanjay releases him and he snaps back like a stretched rubber band, hitting the back of the chair with a smack. One of the guards grabs it to stop it from tipping over. 

 

“Take him back to his chambers. Ensure he has fruit available to him at all times. He's to eat some of it before he gets another meal, but it must be available,” he instructs one of the guards quietly so Kason won't hear. “I don't want him to go hungry again.”

 

The guard bows his head and grabs Kason’s bicep to yank him along. The half-eaten muja fruit falls to the floor and rolls in front of Sanjay’s feet. 

 

He stares at it while the guards drag Kason out, even watches as a service droid scoops it up. Sanjay never thought he’d think this, but he’s suddenly lost his appetite for fruit. He tosses his own muja into a flaming brazier and it hisses as the fire engulfs it. 

 

With a sigh he rises from the throne and adjusts the crown on his brow. 

 

“Take me to the communications room,” he orders. “I have a wedding to plan.” 

 

…

 

The Royal palace only has one frequency on which to contact the Blackwells. When Sanjay asked if Kason had a comlink they could search for Marlon’s and Dalla’s personal frequencies, General Tandin told him the comlink had fallen into the water during the abduction and Kason hadn’t memorized any of the frequencies saved on it. He accepted that; if anyone can get a comm number out of the boy it's Tandin. How the man doesn't have children of his own boggles Sanjay’s mind. His way with young ones was one of the top reasons Sanjay selected him to procure Dalla; there was no one he trusted more to bring her to Iziz promptly, alive, and unhurt. 

 

If only Tandin hadn’t limped into the harbor bruised and swollen, with a consolation prize in his cargo hold. The two Sanjay sent after him, while capable, are a bit of a gamble. If -- when -- they arrive he might have to take Dalla to a medical droid to be checked over, but it won't be anything a bacta patch can't fix. The harder part will be getting her cooperation and Kason’s -- and for that, he’ll enlist Tandin’s help for sure.

 

As he plugs the frequency into the holotable, Sanjay crosses his fingers until the little chime signals his transmission’s been accepted. He laces his hands behind his back while the hologram forms. 

 

It's Marlon Blackwell. And on his right is Shara. 

 

Her opening words are  _ “Sanjay Iago Rash, you let my baby go!” _

 

“S-Shara?” He stammers, amazed it’s her and terrified at the fury exuding from her. He hasn't seen Shara for seventeen years, since that awful week where she swept south to erase their marriage and ran back north to wed that pirate Jamos Blackwell. Sanjay couldn't believe someone lovely as Shara would want to be with someone so  _ unrefined,  _ so  _ unkempt  _ as Jamos. The man didn't even know how to shave! 

 

But Sanjay has a beard now too, better than anything Jamos could come up with. He hopes she notices.

 

_ “Where's Kason?” _ Shara demands, sweeping the hologram for any trace of her eldest. _ “Bring him here. I demand to see him!”  _

 

Sanjay almost complies before he remembers he's the king. He gives orders, not bows to them. “Kason is in the dungeon and there he’ll stay. Transfer me to Dalla.” 

 

_ “Not a chance,”  _ Marlon snaps.

 

_ “Not in a thousand years, Sanjay. Not after what you did to me. Leave her alone and let my Kason go!”  _

 

“Shara, I've learned. I'm going to do things right this time --.”

 

_ “By kidnapping my son?” _ Shara rages. 

 

“I have a bride gift,” Sanjay continues, ignoring the part about Kason. “I have a cloak and an officiant and a family witness. I have a place prepared for her in the throne room! It’s a queen’s chair, made so she’ll still be comfortable in it as she grows.”

 

_ “Only you or your mother would fail to grasp how utterly wrong that is.”  _

 

He ducks out of the transmission for a second and returned with his betrothal necklace looped in his hands. “Look,” he says, holding out the strand. It’s truly beautiful, rubies arranged to look like writhing snakes with seven snake head pendants. “Here's the proof. Won't she look pretty in this?”

 

Marlon quivers with either rage or terror, his lips pressed in the thinnest line. Sanjay’s starting to think it’s rage.

 

Shara takes a deep breath.  _ “Sanjay Rash, may the salt gods have mercy on you if that's the same necklace you tried to give me.”  _

 

Maybe that wasn’t the greatest move. “It’s one of a kind. Perfect for a queen.” 

 

Shara gives him a disapproving look.  _ “Sanjay, ‘cheap’ was never something that came to mind when I thought of you…” _

 

That necklace certainly isn’t cheap, either. “I only want to give my wife something beautiful.” 

 

Marlon’s composure snaps.  _ “My Dalla is not your wife!”  _

 

“She is my fiancée, and I wish to speak with her,” He has the rebels to deal with and Count Dooku breathing down his neck, the last thing he needs is to be afraid his wife is going to smother him in his sleep. If he can talk to Dalla, find out why she’s so upset, then he might be able to find some solutions. But more importantly after Tandin returned empty-handed, after the rebels destroyed the city’s power generator, after Count Dooku sent a tactical droid to succeed where he’s failed, after what happened with Kason today, Sanjay needs to win something. 

 

_ “What have you done to my baby?”  _ Shara changes the subject.  _ “If you hurt him Sanjay, I swear --!” _

 

“I fail to see how this has anything to do with my talking to Dalla.” 

 

_ “It does because if you hurt him, I’m going to reach through this holoprojector and kill you, you impotent bastard!”  _

 

Sanjay blinks and takes a step back. 

 

“I,” he growls with barely managed anger. “Am not impotent.” 

 

Shara looks like she wants to say a whole lot more but Marlon steps in front of her. Of all of them, he must remember Sanjay has Shara’s son. 

 

“Put me through to my fiancée,” he orders. 

 

_ “Even if I would allow it, it’s not possible.”   _ Marlon speaks up.  _ “Dalla’s sick and she just fell asleep. She caught something while looking for her friend on the water.”  _

 

Sick? If it’s bad as Marlon’s making it out to be that might hamper his plans. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Give her my best for a speedy recovery. Did she at least find her friend?” 

 

Dark clouds cover Marlon’s face. 

 

_ “You know the answer to that,”  _ he spits and then adds a final barb:  _ “Kinslayer.”  _

 

_ Kinslayer.  _ He fills with rage. Why would be kill his own kin? He doesn’t even have any to kill! 

 

Sanjay grabs the holotable, his knuckles white. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, Lord Blackwell? 

 

Marlon and Shara share a look. A look that says  _ he doesn’t know.  _

 

“What is it?” 

 

_ “I’m sure you’ll get the report soon.”  _ Marlon says icily.  _ “I'm surprised you haven't gotten it already.” _

 

“What happened?”

 

_ “You're the king. You can find out.”   _ Marlon signs off without another word and before Shara can say anything else about her son. 

 

Sanjay leans on the holotable even after they’re gone, his mind reeling. How could he be a kinslayer if he has none to kill? There's not a single other person with the name Rash. Not a single person of his father’s line…

 

Still, if Marlon wants to levy charges of kinslaying, Sanjay needs to have solid proof of his innocence. With an exasperated sigh he contacts his only men in the north: the two agents he sent to procure Dalla.

 

The agents answer their comm in short order.  _ “Sire.” _

 

“I’m calling for a status update,” he says. “How close are you to Lady Blackwell?” 

 

_ “She hasn’t been out, Sire. Her ship is still in the harbor and she’s been inside the Hold for days.”  _

 

“She’s sick,” he murmurs. Looks like Marlon didn’t simply spit out an excuse. “When you find her, if you believe she’s too ill to make the journey, abort the mission. Remember she is to arrive here  _ alive _ and  _ unharmed.  _ I’d be most displeased to find her on death’s door because of your poor judgement.”  __

 

_ “By your command, Sire,”  _ the second says, bowing his head. 

 

“One more thing.” He looks at one, then the other. “I received a disturbing accusation today and nothing of the sort has been noted in your reports. Please enlighten me why Marlon Blackwell would accuse me of kinslaying, while according to your reports you have only been conducting surveillance?” 

 

The first agent’s eyes drop to his boots. The second has a little more courage.  _ “My lord, we did note a false positive in our report approximately one week ago.”  _

 

“You did. Explain.” 

 

_ “This false positive...we were already at sea by the time we realized it wasn’t Lady Blackwell. The girl had seen our faces. She knew why we were here, and if she had told someone the operation would be over.”  _

 

_ “We were ordered to leave no unnecessary loose ends,”  _ the first pipes up. 

 

“What was her name?” Sanjay demands. “Who was this girl you killed because you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention?” 

 

The second agent looks to the first.  _ “You heard better than I did.”  _

 

_ “Miranda.” _

 

Sanjay searches his memory banks for any relatives named Miranda, but it’s in vain. He doesn’t know any of his mother’s relatives. “Show me a holo.” 

 

Both agents fumble for this request.  _ “Sire, we don’t have much of a holo. Just from the onboard holocam of the --.”  _

 

“That wasn’t a request!” 

 

The agents reluctantly comply and their images disappear, replaced by a grainy holo. In the corner, he can see a young girl curled up on the deck. 

 

The second agent walks past her and in the blink of an eye, she’s in motion. She sweeps his legs from under him and bolts out of the holocam’s field, the agent on her heels and shouting for his partner, but Sanjay can hear a multitude of shouted curses from the off-camera agent and the girl, the sounds of a fight, and a final hard blow followed by a girl’s whimper of pain. 

 

_ “The king says we’re not to harm her, idiot!”  _ one agent screams to the other. 

 

_ “There won’t even be a mark.”  _ The second agent returns into the field, hauling the girl behind him.  _ “King Rash will take one look at her and you know what he’ll say? ‘Thank you for bringing my wife.’” _

 

_ “His wife?”  _ The girl cries. Her voice is high-pitched like the child she is, and she wrenches from the agent’s grip. The first catches her before she can go anywhere but the motion reveals her face to the cam, fright apparent in her big eyes. 

 

Sanjay’s blood runs cold. 

 

Those are his own mother’s eyes; he’d know them anywhere. He’s seen them on her, he’s seen them on Melaana, he sees them every time he looks in the mirror. Mother always said they were her children’s best feature, the feature that marked them for greatness. “No one else has eyes like these,” she would say over their shoulders while Sanjay met her eyes in the mirror and Melaana’s gaze wandered to whatever was going on out the window. “They’re the mark of our great house.” 

 

Except, he remembers. Someone did have eyes like these. The winner of Miss North Sea on the year of their family vacation, the woman Mother told him not to speak to…

 

_ “Easy, Lady Blackwell,”  _ the agent holding the girl orders.  _ “It isn't so awful being a queen.” _

 

_ “Lady Blackwell?”  _ The girl stomps on his foot and he almost lets her go. _ “I'm not Dalla! My name is Miranda and I'm not even old enough to get married. Let me go!” _

 

The agents look at each other in panic. Then one unholsters his blaster.

 

The girl freezes in shock, then starts thrashing and screaming while they haul her to the rail. Screaming for them not to do this, for someone to help her, for her mother and father, for the salt gods. 

 

Sanjay averts his eyes. 

 

The grainy holo disappears and the agents replace it. They get an eyeful of Sanjay’s face and suddenly look very, very sheepish.

 

“That girl was my kin,” he growls. He doesn't know how she was related, but she was. There’s no doubt about it. 

 

_ “O-our deepest apologies, sire,”  _ the first agent stammers.  _ “We didn’t know. We were only trying to preserve the mission.”  _

 

If Sanjay speaks to them any longer he’s going to blow his top, and he can’t afford to lose it in front of his men. 

 

“Return to Iziz,” he orders. “Lord Blackwell knows you’re in the Hold; we’ll have to send someone else.” He can’t believe he ever trusted such imbeciles with retrieving Dalla. “I’ll deal with you when you arrive.” 

 

It’s clear the agents aren’t looking forward to it.  _ “Yes, my lord,”  _ they say and sign off. 

 

When they disappear Sanjay leaves the comm room and goes back to his chambers. There he settles himself into one of his favorite chairs, his datapad on his lap, and searches the HoloNet for a family tree. 

 

And there she is: Miranda Harkon, youngest daughter of Adria Kretash-Harkon, niece of Sanda Kretash-Rash. Cousin of Sanjay Rash. And she was born on … Melaana’s birthday.

 

He puts the pad away, defeated and sick to his stomach. Why didn’t anyone tell him? Why didn’t his  _ mother  _ tell him they were related to the Blackwells’ closest bannermen -- to Dalla’s best friend? If he had known he could have used the connection somehow, gotten on Marlon’s good side through them. None of this ugliness had to happen. 

 

Now he’s much too far down this path to go back. He has a prisoner who hates him, a fiancée who’d sooner stab him than smile at him, and a murdered cousin.  

 

Sanjay’s mind goes back to his wedding night. Shara running her fingers through his hair between jokes of making an honest woman out of her, singing the song in the old language while the firelight from the dalgos caretaker’s cottage danced around the room. He can’t recall a moment in his life he was happier or more relaxed, not worrying about his mother or his obligations or anything but the firelight. 

 

He’ll hear it again. After his wedding he’ll bring Dalla up to this chamber and have her sing it for him. It won’t be a cottage in the jungle, and he’ll need to encourage her to sing, but he’ll hear it. 

 

Until then, Sanjay sighs and searches the HoloNet for Shara’s song. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information on kinslaying, check out the updated legal reference in the forum.


	26. Kretash Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are such a striking feature that Sanjay recognized them in the grainy holo of his cousin's tragic murder. Shara knows those eyes as well, having gazed into them, having felt the bite of their scorn, and she is in for a shock when she comes across someone else who has those eyes. ~ DK

She was awoken by the insistent knocking on her door.

 

“Ugh.” Shara pulled a pillow over her head to block out the sound. “Five more minutes.”

 

But the knocking started up again and now it was joined by Portia's barking to be let out. She knew better than to ignore that. Shara didn't want to spend the morning cleaning up puppy mess.

 

“Alright. I'm coming.” She rolled out of bed with a yawn as the knocking continued.

 

“Shara!” Jamos's voice called from the other side. “Get up!”

 

The excitement in his tone lent and extra spring to her steps and she opened the door to his grinning face. “Morning, beautiful. Guess what?”

 

“What?” She laughed.

 

“How would you feel about a little fishing trip?”

 

“I thought it would be weeks yet before it was warm enough?” She shook her head. It had to be too good to be true. She had resigned herself to sewing lessons with Lana, and more greenhouse research and planning, with maybe a dinner out at the pub to break up the monotony. Not that she didn't love her new life with the Blackwells at the Hold, but if there was a chance to have the deck of the Polaris under her feet again and work with the brylks…

 

“We've had an early thaw!” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Marlon and Lana are already getting packed up.” He didn't look exactly pleased with this last piece of information. Shara was sure he would have rather the voyage could have been made sans-chaperones. The two of them had exhibited remarkably good behavior since the new year, but at least they got to go. “And I've commed the crew.”

 

“So I'm the last to find out about it.” She mock complained.

 

“Hey, I let you sleep in.” He smirked.

 

She stood up on her toes. “That was very sweet.” And then their other little chaperone jumped up at her ankles, barking excitedly. “And we should probably let her out before we have a mess to clean up.”

 

“I'll take care of her. You pack.” Jamos tapped Shara's nose with one finger before he bent to pick up the pup. Then as he carried Portia down the hall he called back over his shoulder. “I’ve also already asked Ness to ask Maris if she would cogsit while we're gone.”

 

“Did you think of everything?” She asked with a laugh.

 

He turned to her with his signature grin. “Aye. Nothing's gonna stop us. Now go pack!”

 

…

 

Jamos came to stand beside her at the ship's rail. Shara was wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her coat which was already crystallized with frozen tears.

 

“We really can't keep meeting like this.” He whispered.

 

She knew he was referring to her first voyage aboard the Polaris when he’d come across her in this same spot crying because she’d found out she wasn't pregnant. 

 

“You know this is only a short detour.” He assured her. “As soon as we're done at Harkon Hall, we're still going fishing.”

 

“I know.” She took a deep shaky breath. 

 

“And the Harkons are great! We've known them forever! They gave us Portia! They've been wanting to meet you!”

 

“It's not that.” Shara shook her head. “I'm thrilled to get to meet them and see the new baby.” 

 

The message had come in on the ship's comm almost as soon as they got out of the harbor. Adria Harkon had just given birth to her baby girl. Normally they wouldn't have been able to go and visit the new addition for months, especially this time of year. But since they were already on the water, with the whole family, and Harkon Hall was only a little out of the way of their original heading, it only made sense to stop by and offer their congratulations in person.

 

“Then, what's wrong?” Jamos wrapped an arm around her shoulders a little awkwardly. She knew he was only trying to comfort her but they were still both a little unsure about what crossed the line into public showing of affection.

 

She leaned against him, telling herself it was for warmth in the frigid wind. “I was just remembering what today is. It's… it would have been…” she looked up at him. “Mel's nineteenth lifeday.” She took a deep breath and continued. “A year ago we were all together at the Kiras’ and we were happy. At least, I thought we were.”

 

Jamos nodded and squeezed her a little tighter. “You're wondering if you might still be happy there if she hadn't flown away…”  _ and crashed _ , he guessed.

 

“Yes and no.” Shara mused. “I think even then I knew that it couldn't last, but how much longer might I have endured that… treatment, trying to make it work?”

 

“Shar, I know she was your friend and you miss her but thankfully you don't have to ask that question.” He turned her to face himself. “You did get away. You're here now and happy, aye?”

 

“Aye.” She smiled, but the sadness wasn't completely gone from her eyes.

 

“And…” Jamos grinned at her trying to cheer her up even more. “Now you get to celebrate a brand new baby who shares your friend’s birthday.”

 

“That's true.” She brightened, but suddenly feeling awkward about his proximity and sensing that someone was likely to come along and break them apart, Shara turned once again to look out over the sea. “Do you think they'll let me hold her?”

 

“I'm sure they will.” He nodded confidently. “I told them how good you are with Portia and Dalla.”

 

“Oh did you now?”

 

“Well, you know, they were just checking up to make sure the norcog was in good hands.” 

 

Shara's good humor was returning. “And you assured them that she is?”

 

“Aye, I did.” Jamos smiled that cocky smile.

 

She couldn't let her gaze linger too long on his lips. “It helps that I have a very capable co-pet parent.” 

 

Jamos took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I think our furbaby is very lucky to have us both.”

 

“Do you think she'll miss us?” Shara asked with a playful frown.

 

“Now, Shara.” Jamos answered mock seriously. “Let's not spend our first chance out in months, worrying about the baby.”

 

…

 

As they neared the harbor of Harkon Hall, Lana stood at the rail with Shara and pointed out the warehouses and shipyards. “The Harkons are the best shipwrights in the north. Most of the ships on the sea were built right here.”

 

“The Polaris as well?” Shara asked.

 

“Mmhm.” Lana bounced Dalla in her arms. “Of course Uncle Jamos has already shown you all this, hasn't he?” 

 

Dalla was too young to remember her first trip to Harkon Hall but she grinned and repeated, “Ja Ja!”

 

Shara's eyes wandered to the top deck where the captain was busy giving the orders to his crew to bring them safely in. 

 

“Look how much they've grown!” Lana marveled, bringing Shara's attention back to the dock. 

 

The first thing she noticed was the biggest cognine she had ever seen in her life. Seated, its head came almost to the shoulder of the man standing next to it. She recognized him as Lord Glover Harkon from the holocomm last summer. Beside him we're two young red haired children. It must have been the twins Lana was referring to. 

 

The boy had one hand entwined in the cog’s fur and the other thumb in his mouth. His father noticed and stopped waving at the incoming ship for a moment to tap his son's arm and remind him to dislodge the thumb. He obliged sullenly. 

 

That must be a hard habit to break. Shara knew better than to vow that she would never let a child of hers suck their thumb at that age. Both because there was no guarantee that she would ever have a child of her own but also because, if by some chance she did, a statement like that was likely to come back to haunt her.

 

The little girl was jumping up and down, her red braids bouncing on her shoulders. She was yelling something at them that Shara couldn't make out in the wind, but Shara remembered hearing her speak when she had interrupted the comm with Jamos. What was it she had said? “Is that her, Mr. Jamos. She's real pretty!” 

 

Shara smiled at the memory. What had Jamos told the Harkons about her? 

 

But watching the little girl made her nervous as well. She was bouncing so close to the edge of the dock. Her father didn't seem worried about it. But then Shara and Bremon used to race each other around the tree trunk like legs of the fambaas when they were that age and there was always someone admonishing that they would be crushed if they weren't careful. 

 

Maybe that's what Shara thought was familiar about the twins as they drew closer. They just reminded her of what it was like growing up with her  _ brother _ . But there was something else she couldn't quite put her finger on, something in their faces. She had caught a glimpse of the girl in the holo and of course her twin resembled her…

 

Just then the child lost her footing and would have plunged into the icy water if it hadn't been for the quick response of the norcog who caught the back of her coat gently between its teeth like a mother with a pup, and pulled her back away from the edge. 

 

Shara must have let out a shriek of alarm. A hand descended reassuringly on her shoulder. 

 

“It's alright,” said Jamos. “Old Grey wouldn't let anything happen to her. Norcogs are great with kids.”

 

“Oh,” she answered as he smiled down at her. Is that why he'd gotten Portia for her? Did he hope that their little ones might have a faithful protector one day? She couldn't think about that. She looked away.

 

“Won't be long now. Just coming along side.” He told her.

 

“I see.” 

 

Soon enough both the anchor and gang plank were down and the Blackwells descended to be welcomed by their lifelong friends. Shara held back, awkwardly. 

 

That is until she was enveloped in a bear hug by the Lord of the Hall. “So glad we finally get to meet the new beast master in the flesh.” Glover raised his eyebrows in approval at Jamos but he only said, “And this little slip of a thing controls brylks like she was born to it?”

 

Shara held her own before the captain could answer. “Actually I was born to trick riding dalgos. As it turns out the two require a similar skill set.” Then she smiled. “It's good to meet you, Lord Harkon. Thank you so much for having me.”

 

“It's Glover.” He winked. “Now come and meet the twins. They've done nothing but talk about you since they found out you were coming.” 

 

But when he turned to the two little redheads they were as silent as the salt gods’ halls. They stared at her in amazement.

 

“Hello.” Shara attempted cheerfully with little response. And then she tried a different tact. “I do believe this is the biggest cognine I've ever seen in my life.”

 

“He’s Old Grey.” The boy ventured, his left hand curling in and out of a fist as if he were trying to remember his father's instructions. 

 

“Would it be alright if I pet him?”

 

They both nodded and the girl said, “He’s real nice. He's Portia's grandsire!”

 

“Is he?” Shara reached out and scratched the big beast behind the ear. “Well, you'll be happy to know, Mr. Grey, that your grandpup is doing very well. She loves her home at the Hold and I love her very much.”

 

“Is she?” The little boy asked. “Is she really happy there?”

 

“Mmhm.” Shara assured him. “She likes to play and eat and she's growing like crazy.” She rolled her eyes and the little girl giggled. “Do you think she'll get as big as Old Grey?”

 

“Not quite that big.” The little boy grinned. Distractedly his hand rose toward his mouth again but before he could defy his father's wishes, Shara caught the hand in her own. 

 

She took hold of the little girl's hand in her other. “What are your names?”

 

“I'm Elinor and he's Ephraim,” she answered before her brother had the chance. 

 

Ephraim scowled at her. 

 

Shara handily defused the argument before it began. “Could the both of you show me the way inside? I'm freezing!”

 

“Aye!” They answered together, giggling. 

 

“Beast master in deed,” Glover Harkon nodded, impressed. “You'd better watch out Jamos. I might steal her away from you to help keep these two monsters in line.”

 

Before Jamos could answer Shara called back over her shoulder, “ _ She _ might take you up on that during the off season if the pay is competitive.”

 

Jamos raised his hands submissively. “She's the boss.”

 

Marlon laughed and gave his brother a playful punch in the arm. “Quick study, this one.” 

 

“Aye, he'll do.” Lana grinned as well.

 

“So did the rest of the litter find good homes?” Shara asked the Harkons as they continued towards the Hall. She was watching the way Old Grey was herding them all forward.

 

“Aye.” Ephraim said sadly. 

 

His father mussed the boy's red curls fondly. “Last one went just yesterday. Bought and paid for by Hugo Bralykburn, if you can believe it.”

 

“That old pirate? Pay?” Jamos's reaction was immediate and harsh. “You sure he didn't just sneak into your kennel and swipe the last one?”

 

“Who is this?” Shara asked, her curiosity aroused.

 

“The Bralykburn clan have been known to go pirate in a slow season.” Lana explained. 

 

“Thankfully they haven't resorted to that for years.” Marlon, as Lord of the north, would be the one who would have to set them straight if they did.

 

“But if they haven't gone pirate in so long then…” Shara began to ask.

 

“That…” Jamos interrupted her and then, remembering that there were children present, censored himself. “Challenged me to a game of sabaac. Tricked me into putting up the Polaris.” He admitted sullenly.

 

“You bet the Polaris in a game of cards?” She asked amazed. 

 

There were smiles on the other faces but they let Jamos tell it. “I was twelve. It was after my first catch. The crew brought me into the pub at one of the Flint harbors to celebrate. This shady character offers to buy me a drink and teach me how to play. We played a few hands. Don't remember much after that. You'd have to ask Ness for the full story.”

 

Even if he knew, Shara could tell he was too embarrassed to finish. “Sounds like he taught you a hard lesson.” She said with a bit of a smile.

 

“Aye, don't trust a Bralykburn whenever credits or personal property are concerned.” And as if that settled the matter he returned the topic to norcogs. “So when did Hugo become an animal lover?”

 

They had reached the Hall and continued the conversation while they removed coats and wraps in the entryway. 

 

“Quite a family man now, Hugo.” Glover told them while he helped the twins with their coats. “Past few seasons have been good for them and he’s just promoted his son to Midshipman. Didn't want his little girl to feel left out. The cog was for her.”

 

Elinor tugged on Shara's hand. “Talia's the same age as me.”

 

“And me.” Ephraim added.

 

“That's sweet.” Shara thought it sounded like something her own father would have done.

 

“Hypocrite.” Jamos mumbled. “He always called Marlon and me spoiled little lordlings.” He brightened right away when he felt a tug on his pants leg and looked down to see Dalla pulling herself up to stand and grinning at him.

 

“JaJa!” 

 

Lana nudged Shara and whispered loudly, “Of course he would never spoil his niece.”

 

“I should have gotten her a cog while you still had a few left.” Jamos told Glover as he lifted Dalla into his arms, not denying the jibe.

 

“Now hang on.” Lana put an end to that idea. “Are you planning on taking responsibility for another cog at the Hold, because I'm not cleaning up after it while chasing a crawler, soon to be toddler around the place! Wait till Dalla's out of diapers at least and then we'll talk about a pet.”

 

Marlon laughed and pulled his wife to himself in hug. “And what if by the time she's out of diapers there's another little one at the Hold?” He raised an eyebrow at his brother as if suggesting that it might be a niece or nephew rather than a sibling for Dalla.

 

Jamos grinned and Shara blushed.

 

“Oh, you just reminded me,” said Glover. “Adria and I have a salt and light gift for Dalla. It's a holo the twins loved, about a purple mythosaur.”

 

Shara groaned but Jamos grinned, “I told you, kids love it!”

 

…

 

Once again, Shara held back when they all gathered in the warm sitting room and Glover brought the baby out of the nursery to meet them all.

 

“Addy will be out soon. Said she wanted to get herself presentable for guests.” He told them, rolling his eyes. “I told her she looked beautiful already, but here's the real star of the show.” 

 

“Oh look at the baby, Dalla!” Lana crooned, holding her daughter up to see. And then had to pull her hand back. “No no. We mustn’t touch. She's not one of your dollies.”

 

“Salt gods, Glove. She is a beauty!” Marlon whistled the compliment. “Looks like we're both going to have to brush up on our blaster skills.”

 

“Just like her momma.” Glover grinned. 

 

“Ms. Shara,” Elinor tugged on her skirt for attention and Shara welcomed the distraction. 

 

“Yes, Ellie.”

 

“When are you and Mr. Jamos gonna have a baby?”

 

Shara went scarlet but she attempted to keep her voice steady to answer the child. “Well, you see. Mr. Jamos and I aren't married. We can't…”

 

“Babies don't come from a wedding.” Ephraim blurted out. “We've seen the cogs. They get pups when they…” 

 

“Thank you, Ephraim.” Jamos stepped in to stop the boy before he could go any further with his explanation. “Ms. Shara bred dalgos, I'm sure she knows how it works.” He winked at her. “Besides it's her turn to hold your sister.”

 

Jamos who had been taking his own turn holding the infant, gently placed her in Shara's arms.

 

Her eyes remained on him for a moment before she turned her gaze downward and got her first sight of Miranda. 

 

And then she froze. It was as if she was seeing a tiny Melaana. Mel's baby should have looked like this. Gods! This was how she had dreamed that her own babies with Sanjay would look. She had always hoped that their little ones would have his eyes.

 

And then it dawned on her why Elinor and Ephraim looked so familiar to her. They reminded her of the family pictures at the Rash Estate, all those holos of Sanjay and Melaana growing up. They all had those same beautiful eyes. 

 

“I'm s-sorry I can't.” Shara choked back a sob and quickly handed the child back to Jamos. She had to get out. She couldn't stay in this place with these children who reminded her so painfully of her broken dreams. 

 

She left the room at a run, thinking only to get outside in the cold air. She nearly ran headlong into a woman whose looks were even more disconcerting. 

 

The woman was almost as surprised as Shara. And then a look of understanding came over her lovely features. 

 

“You must be Shara.” The voice was soft and kind.

 

Shara couldn't look her in the face. She was used to keeping her own eyes downcast in the presence of this woman's doppelganger. “I- I'm sorry. I…”

 

“It is Shara, isn't it? That is what Lana said, I believe. I'm Adria Harkon, and it is I who should be sorry.” She took both of Shara's hands in hers in an attempt to put her at ease. “Everything happened so fast, Miranda's birth and then you all were already aboard the ship.”

 

Shara glanced up at the other woman's face and tried to speak but no words would come.

 

“Lana told me of your acquaintance with my sister.” For the first time Adria's voice took on a harsher tone. “We meant to warn you of the… unfortunate family resemblance.”

 

“Unfortunate?” Shara choked out the word. How could she think that the exotic eyes and delicate bone structure she shared with her sister were unfortunate? Adria was gorgeous, even a day after delivering her third child. And she had none of the haughty contempt in her expression that Shara had come to dread from similar eyes. 

 

In fact, the more Shara looked the more she saw the sanguine differences. Concern radiated from Adria and not just the selfish regard for her own assets that Sanda had fretted about constantly. This younger Kretash sister cared deeply for people. 

 

“You can find it in your heart to forgive me?” Adria asked, arms open to accept her new friend unconditionally.

 

“Oh yes, of course.” Shara allowed herself to be drawn into a hug.

 

… 

 

By the time Adria and Shara made their way into the sitting room, the others were back on the subject of Bralykburns.

  
Jamos ranted, “Tell me you're not considering marrying off sweet little Elinor to a Bralykburn!”

  
Glover shrugged. “I don't know. Dominic seems to be a good lad. He's polite to his mother and positively dotes after his little sister. I'm not saying I'm going to send her off to Bralyk Keep tomorrow but I'm not completely opposed to the match when the time comes.”

  
“Even if you wait to make arrangements,” Lana argued. “The boy is a bit older than Elinor?”

  
Adria entered the conversation with her sensible grace. “Dominic just turned ten. So there is a bit of an age gap but it's not substantial.”

  
“It's about the same age difference between Ephraim and Dalla.” Glover reminded them with a laugh.

  
Marlon groaned, “Glove, don't even start. You know how Lana and I feel about betrothals.”

  
Jamos was not appeased. “Age is completely beside the point! He's a Bralykburn! Has Hugo got another boy as well? Have you already got Miranda bargained away to him?”

  
Adria’s beautiful eyes shone mischievously. “No, Jamos. We were counting on you to provide us with a match for Miranda.”

  
Both Shara and Jamos started to protest but then a chime made them all jump. Marlon pulled his comm unit out of his pocket. He frowned at the ID and then looked around at them all to excuse himself. “I'll just take this in the hall.”

 

“I wonder what that was about,” Glover mused. 

 

Adria crossed to Lana who was taking a turn with the newborn and held out her hands with a beaming smile. “I'll have my daughter back now if you don't mind.” 

 

Lana obliged a little reluctantly. “She really is a jewel, Addy.”

 

Shara almost choked up again at the sight of the mother and child, so happy. Would she ever experience that herself? 

 

A whoop from the hallway drew everyone's attention and Marlon ran back into the room. To her complete surprise, he made a beeline straight for Shara. His eyes twinkled at her and her threw a look over at Jamos with a wink before he announced, “The comm was from Iziz. The documents have been signed. You're a free woman, Shara!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for a little clarification: Shara uses the term 'lifeday’ while Jamos uses the term 'birthday’. This was intentional. The Blackwells live in the North which is almost entirely populated with humans while Shara was brought up by merchants in the much more diverse society of Iziz. She would never wish to offend a potential customer who might have been hatched rather than born.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing! And just a reminder the lifeday celebration that Shara mentions can be found in chapter 45 of the story the Ashla Awareness.


	27. The Ladies Roast A Pig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the rebels, and Steela and Dalla take the matter of the Bralykburns into their own hands. -LS

Even from a distance, Saw Gerrera really doesn't look comfortable in their rowboat. For Dalla, who’s sitting in the boat with him, it's glaringly obvious.

 

“Are you sure you don't want me to row?” She asks as they go another few, jerky feet. 

 

“No. Steela said our cover story is that we’re a couple on a date. I think she's watched too many holomovies,” Saw scoffs, clearly unimpressed with deferring to Steela. “Who takes their girlfriend on a rowboat on the river?”

 

“...It's the most common date in the North.”

 

“Of course it is,” Saw grunts and looks over his shoulder to the Bralykburns’ ship. “Oh my gods, it's still that far away?”

 

“Do your arms hurt?”

 

“No.”

 

“We just have to get close enough to see who’s on board and what they’re carrying. It's not like we’re rowing across the planet.”

 

“There’s a droid patrol nearby. What if they stop us?”

 

“Then you’ll give me the oars and I'll row us out of here like a drexl off Dxun.”

 

Saw seems to take that. “How close is close enough to see who’s on board?” 

 

Dalla estimates. “Two docks from the ship?” 

 

Saw groans. 

 

“Will you stop that?” She checks over her shoulder to make sure no one’s looking. “Voices carry over water and we’re supposed to be on a date. It’ll look suspicious.” 

 

“Have you ever been on a date?” He raises an eyebrow. 

 

“No.” 

 

“There’s groaning. Lots of groaning, especially when your date wants you to row her across the harbor.” 

 

Dalla doesn’t know whether to take him seriously or check him into the water. “You didn’t have to buy this date dinner.”

 

“I would buy you  _ two _ dinners before doing this.” He rows again and something comes to him. “But on the bright side, my biceps will look great afterward.” 

 

She rolls her eyes. 

 

“What?” 

 

“This has to be the least convincing fake date in the history of Onderon.” 

 

“What did you expect? Roses? Love ballads? Furious kissing -- you’ve made that very difficult, by the way,” he says, gesturing to her scarf. 

 

She leans forward on her elbows. “Saw?” She says in her absolute sweetest voice. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Make one more knuckleheaded comment and you’re going for an unexpected swim.” 

 

Saw smirks, because of course he does. His comlink buzzes and Dalla answers it since his hands are busy. “Hello?” 

 

_ “Will the two people who are supposedly on a date do a little less flirting and a little more rowing?”  _ Steela teases. 

 

“We are not flirting!” Dalla blushes. 

 

Steela bursts out laughing and someone else takes the comlink, someone who’s trying and failing not to follow suit.  _ “Sorry, Dalla,”  _ Ahsoka says and stifles a giggle.  _ “But it’s pretty bad. Shinies are subtler than you two -- quit looking over your shoulder for us!”  _

 

“Where are you guys?”

 

_ “You don’t need to know. You just need to get close enough to the Bralykburns to determine what they’re doing here. Wait, what -- oh, and Steela says you’re giving us enough material for a rom-com holo.” _

 

Saw flushes. “Rom-com?”

 

“We are rowing out to a ship!” Dalla protests. “And we weren't even flirting; we were arguing.”

 

_ “You’ve been on the water for a minute! What can you be arguing about?”  _

 

“Nothing serious.” The boat starts turning and she covers the comlink’s receiver. “Saw, what are you doing?” 

 

“I’m rowing!” 

 

“You have to keep them even to go in a straight line.” 

 

“Hey, this is harder than it looks!” Saw protests and sends them veering off course again.

 

“People are staring. Give me the oars.” she orders and grabs them from his hands. A few quick corrections later and they’re once again moving in a straight line. 

 

A few sailors on the docks burst out laughing, along with Ahsoka and Steela over the comlink. 

 

“Lover boy’s biceps are for show?” One jeers. 

 

“Northern girls are going to be the death of me,” Saw pouts and snatches the comlink. “What do you want, Steela?”

 

_ “Now that Dalla’s rowing, nothing.”  _ Her smirk is audible.  _ “Get over to the boat, find out what they’re doing, and for goodness’ sake stop glaring at each other.” _

 

_ “You’re supposed to be on a date!”  _ Ahsoka chimes in. 

 

Saw and Dalla both stop glaring at each other and glare at the water instead. 

 

_ “You two are impossible.”  _

 

“Will you give me the oars?” Saw pleads when someone on the docks yells something about chivalry being dead. 

 

“Do you want them to actually row or to inflate your ego? We weren’t getting anywhere when you were rowing.” 

 

“People are looking.” He gets an idea. “You don’t want to look too northern.” 

 

“Says the guy who just told those rivermen I was northern,” she snorts. “Everyone probably assumes my family moved here or something. Look, we’re going so much faster.” 

 

“And it’s embarrassing!” 

 

_ “Ha!”  _ Steela laughs through the comm.  _ “You admit it!” _

 

Ahsoka takes it away from her again.  _ “Alright boys and girls, Saw gets the oars on the way back. Unless someone starts chasing you, in which case Dalla gets them.”   _

 

The Bralykburns’ ship grows closer and Dalla leans to look over Saw’s shoulder. “Uh, Ahsoka? I think I might need to keep them. We’ve got trouble on board.” 

 

_ “Nobility?”  _

 

“Worse. I hope I’m wrong, but I think they have fighting men on deck.” 

 

“What?” Saw turns around in his seat. 

 

“Don’t look at them!” She hisses before he can do just that. “I’ll go around so you can see, but it really does look like fighting men.” 

 

_ “You think they’re here to pirate something?”  _ Steela asks. _ “There’s nothing to pirate.”  _

 

“They’re wearing southern clothes. That’s not normal,” Dalla worries. “Not even for sailors in harbor. I can only think of one good reason they’d have them.” 

 

_ “Disguises.”  _

 

“The questions is why they’re disguising themselves. They aren’t shy about hiding they’re northern so it’s not about breaking the embargo. I don’t see any of the family members so they can't be treating with Rash.”

 

_ “At least not in person,”  _ Ahsoka says. 

 

Dalla freezes mid-row. “Oh, kriff no.”

 

“He already has their loyalty?” Saw groans.

 

“And their fighting men, disguised. Why? If he needs reinforcements why not just call for more droids?”

 

_ “I have a theory.”  _ Ahsoka says.  _ “Remember what Master Kenobi said about public perception?” _

 

Saw groans and Dalla feels sick to her stomach. “It's a smear campaign, isn’t it?” 

 

_ “Dalla says they’re pirates. And the pirates I know wouldn’t have any problem running a smear campaign if they got paid enough. Since they’re wearing southern clothes, my guess is they might be here to impersonate you.”  _

 

“I don’t get it. No one’s going to mistake them, grown adults, for us, teenagers.” Saw replies. 

 

Dalla shakes her head. “If there’s enough chaos they would. And these are skilled fighting men. They will create that much pandemonium and they won’t break a sweat.” 

 

Steela comes back onto the comm channel.  _ “What kind of attacks are we looking at?”  _

 

“When they’re on the water they seem pretty fond of harpoons. On land that could translate to what? Blasters?” 

 

_ “Bombs,”  _ Ahsoka answers.  _ “And they’d aim for civilian casualties. We need to stop this before it starts or we’re going to lose the people for good.”  _

 

Saw gingerly reaches across the boat and takes the oars from Dalla, and she realizes she’s stopped rowing. She doesn’t protest as he turns them around and starts rowing back toward the dock. 

 

“The crew won’t listen to us if we talk with them directly,” she says. “The only way to stop them now short of sinking the ship with them on it is to go over their heads.” 

 

_ “You mean talk to the family.”  _

 

“Aye, I do.” 

 

Saw leans into his next stroke and the boat goes surprisingly far and in a shockingly straight line. He’s getting the hang of this; his next is just as steady. 

 

Steela’s voice on the other hand, isn’t. 

 

_ “Okay,”  _ she says, taking a deep breath.  _ “Back to base and we’ll talk to the Bralykburns.”  _

 

…

 

Steela isn’t looking too much better in the briefing room while Dalla gives her a crash course in dealing with the Bralykburns. 

 

“What am I thinking?” she scoffs. “Lux is the diplomat; he should be doing this.” 

 

“The Bralykburns know the Blackwells are our bannermen,” Lux explains. “Whereas you’re a Beast Rider and therefore not involved. You really are the best person for the job. You hold your own against Saw.” 

 

“There's a difference between arguing with your brother and holding formal negotiations.”

 

Dalla shrugs. “My father always says the only difference is that during formal negotiations you can't call anyone a Chirn head.”

 

“That's the only difference,” Lux admits. 

 

“You two are filling me with confidence here,” Steela chuckles. “Okay, give me the lowdown on the Bralykburns again.” 

 

“They’ll go pirate over a single credit chip.” Dalla ticks the offenses off on her fingers. “They think House Blackwell is a sellout to the south, they think my aunt Shara is a southern witch, they’ll sit forever nursing anything they think is a slight, they tried to take over the north --.” 

 

“That’s plenty.” Steela holds up a hand to stop her. “What should I tell them? What works?” 

 

“They have to think they don’t have any other choice but to declare for us. You definitely need to say you have military might and you’re not afraid to use it on their fighting men. Say that when Dendup takes the throne he’ll reward his allies and punish those who betrayed him,” Lux suggests.

 

Dalla’s route is more direct. “Say you’ll tell my father.”

 

Steela cracks a smile. “Ooh, so scary.” 

 

“You haven’t met my father.” She can think of few things scarier than an angry Marlon Blackwell. 

 

Steela waves the comment away. “I'll keep that in mind. Anything else?” 

 

“Yes, a word of warning. They really, really don't like southerners.” 

 

“You can do it,” Lux encourages. “You aren't afraid of some old lord hundreds of kliks away. And Dalla and I are right here with you.” 

 

“Albeit out of the hologram’s field.” Dalla takes a step back to ensure she is. “Are you ready?”

 

“No,” Steela smiles nervously and turns on the holotable. 

 

Lux falls back with Dalla while the hologram connects. As Steela takes a deep breath and straightens up he leans in and whispers in her ear:

 

“What do our chances really look like?” 

 

“Southern beast rider talking to Bralykburns? Bad.”

 

Steela gives them a dirty look. “I can hear you, you know.”  

 

“Sorry…” 

 

Steela doesn’t get the chance to respond because the holotable chimes a warning, and then displays Lord Bralykburn’s scowling face. 

 

Dalla and Lux triple-check they aren’t in the hologram’s field, and Lord Hugo Bralykburn focuses on Steela. 

 

_ “Tell me,”  _ he spits.  _ “How does a southern whore have this frequency?”  _

 

Steela bristles, clearly not happy at being called a whore. “Lord Bralykburn, my name is Steela Gerrera. I'm calling to discuss the reason your men are in the Iziz harbor during a trade embargo.”

 

_ “Why would you care?”  _ Bralykburn asks.  _ “We’re bringing the fish. You should be thanking me for not leaving you alone with those rivermen. Those sods squeeze anyone and everyone they see.”  _

 

_ Hypocrite much, Lord Bralykburn?  _ Dalla only doesn’t roll her eyes because she doesn’t want to distract Steela. 

 

Steela isn’t distracted. “By doing so you’re defying your Liege Lord’s direct order. And my men report that your vessels are very close to the Rashes’. That doesn’t sound much like a fishing trip to me.” 

 

_ “Only so many places to dock.”  _

 

“So you need fighting men to dock?” 

 

Bralykburn regards her closer.  _ “I see what this is. You’re one of those terrorists giving the king a migraine.”  _

 

“He’s no king,” Steela retorts. “Sanjay Rash is nothing more than a Separatist puppet and a traitor who sold out his king and his honor in exchange for a crown. We will not kneel to traitors. We will only support the true --.” 

 

_ “You speak of true rulers and yet you name Marlon Blackwell my Liege Lord?”  _ Bralykburn snorts.  _ “His kin sold the north to the south for coin and glory. What’s the difference?”  _

 

“Marlon Blackwell may not be a saint, but he didn’t bring an occupation no one wants. And I swear to you Lord Bralykburn, Rash will sell you out the second he gets a chance or thinks you’ve outlived your usefulness.” She gets an idea. “He’s seeking a marriage alliance with the Blackwells; he’ll want to please his in-laws. I can’t think of any better bride gift than Bralykburn heads on a silver tray.” 

 

Lux and Dalla stare at each wide-eyed.  _ Sweet salt gods, that’s really good.  _

 

But Bralykburn isn’t cowed by the threat. He leans forward into the hologram and says:  _ “Kriff them.”  _ Steela opens her mouth to say something but Bralykburn steamrolls over her.  _ “Kriff Dendup. His perfumed corpse was going to start this someday with no heir to take his place; why shouldn’t we play the game now? Kriff you and the rest of your beast rider terrorists for trying to hold it back. Take a clue from your Liege Lord, that Kira? Fly around on your monsters and let the serious players have control of the board.”  _

 

“And you’re the one to talk about following one’s Liege --!”

 

_ “Kriff my Liege Lord!”  _ Bralykburn shouts.  _ “Kriff him and kriff his banners and kriff House Blackwell!”  _

 

Dalla inflates, incensed, and Lux grabs her shoulder. “Easy,” he whispers. “You can’t take him seriously. He’s only an peevish pirate.”   __

 

“A peevish pirate who’s spit on my family’s name!” She hisses. 

 

“A peevish pirate with a ship full of fighting men in the harbor!”

 

Bralykburn continues yelling at Steela.  _ “The only thing that man’s done for the north is preach about duty and honor. Put your family’s honor before yourself, he says. He’s just disguising the fact he’s nothing but a showboating coward.” _

 

She shrugs off Lux’s hand and takes a step away but still out of the hologram’s field to pace, bubbling with rage. 

 

“Maybe, but his navy can crush yours any day,” Steela challenges. 

 

_ “If he was really interested in building up the his military strength, he should give his whore daughter to the king.”  _

 

Dalla stops. Her cheeks match Steela’s, flushed with unbidden shame at being called a whore. 

 

_ “The rest of us give up our daughters when they come of age. They may not like it at first, but that’s the highborn way. That’s reality, but not for him. The kriffing king, the most advantageous match in the world, asks for his daughter’s hand and he turns him down because he thinks she won’t like him.”  _

 

Yes, Marlon is touchy about betrothals. But there are so many reasons he refused Rash, and none of them were simple as Dalla not liking him. She grits her teeth, struggling to maintain self-control while Bralykburn trashes her father. 

_ “Talk to me about loyalty when there’s a competent man in charge of the North and children aren’t playing at the great game,”  _ he orders.  _ “Until then, I think I’ll stay with a real player. I’ll be there when the king takes your treasonous head. Maybe he’ll take Marlon’s the same time.”  _ A thought comes to him and he smiles.  _ “Maybe he’ll let me take the traitor’s myself. And maybe I can convince him to take another girl to wife, and he’ll let me end the Blackwell wench too.” _

 

Lux lunges to tackle her too late. Dalla storms toward the holoprojector, ignoring his warnings and Steela’s nervous and confused glances. She slows down just long enough to turn her furious stalk to a calculating one. 

 

_ You’re going to show your hand. And what if it doesn't work? Hugo Bralykburn is one of the last people you want to show your hand to. _

 

But there's something else. Something that’ll give her new cards even if the negotiations fall through. Something that’s guaranteed to help her with her other, smaller plan. 

 

Steela breaks from diplomacy mode. “What are you doing?” she hisses out the side of her mouth. 

 

“Ending this,” Dalla growls. Lord Bralykburn isn’t about to listen to Steela any more, and salt gods know they can’t afford him teetering all the way to Rash. Unless they do something drastic, and fast, then that’s exactly what he’ll do. Even with her backup plan it’s not ideal, and her father will kill her for doing it, but right now it’s their only option. 

 

Lord Bralykburn looks at Steela like she’s crazy.  _ “I’m choosing the side that will give me the north, you --.”  _

 

Dalla steps into the field. 

 

Bralykburn freezes. 

 

Steela’s game face slowly returns. 

 

“Lord Bralykburn,” Dalla says icily. 

 

_ “L-Lady Blackwell,”  _ Bralykburn stammers.  _ “You're in Iziz?” _

 

“She's been here for a while.” Steela relishes the words. “How long again?”

 

“In this room? Since this comm began.”

 

Bralykburn swallows hard.  _ “My lady--.” _

 

“Am I your Lady or not?” She glares at him. “From what I've heard you don't seem very keen on the idea.” 

 

“He doesn't seem keen on much of anything in the way of loyalty,” Steela points out. “Lord Bralykburn, you’re right that I don't know much about northern politics but I think Marlon Blackwell would be very interested in this.”

 

“You're right, he would,” Dalla confirms. “Can I borrow your comlink to let him --?”

 

_ “Don't tell your father!”  _ Bralykburn pleads, scrambling as if he can actually stop her from dialing.  _ “I didn't mean any of what I said. I couldn’t know whether she was a spy for Rash. I had to appear loyal to save my house.” _

 

_ Sure you did.   _ “You’re saying you disavowed your Liege Lord and loyalty to Onderon’s true king, declared for Sanjay Rash, and  _ claimed you wanted to chop off my father’s and my heads _ in order to appear loyal?” She’d have to be crazy to swallow that. 

 

Bralykburn has to know it too.  _ “I am. Please, Lady Blackwell. I was desperate!” _

 

“That doesn’t explain your interesting vocabulary choices,” Steela announces. “You know, things like ‘kriff my Liege Lord’ and calling me, if memory serves, a ‘southern whore’?” She punctuates the last bit with air quotes. 

 

“Don’t forget ‘terrorist,’ ‘whore daughter,’ and ‘Blackwell wench,’” Dalla reminds her. “And whatever he was about to call you before he was interrupted. Can’t imagine that was going to be a compliment.” 

 

_ “I didn’t mean them,”  _ Bralykburn tries desperately to backpedal.  _ “I have twin little girls, and my Talia’s recently wed; I would never say something like that about a woman. My deepest apologies, my lady!” _

 

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to her.” Dalla nods to Steela. “That’s hardly something to call the Lady of House Gerrera.” 

 

Steela’s and Bralykburn’s eyebrows shoot up. The split second after, Steela steps on Dalla’s foot. 

 

_ “I’ve never heard of that house before.”  _

 

“We’re Beast Riders,” Steela says, probably the only thing she can think. When Bralykburn isn't looking she gives Dalla a very black look. 

 

That should be her cue to drop the shovel but Dalla keeps digging her grave. “Beast riders who are kin to Bremon Kira. Steela, aren’t you his niece?” 

 

If holograms showed color Bralykburn would be pale as snow.  _ “Lady Gerrera, please accept my apologies. I didn't know and I didn’t mean what I said.”  _

 

Steela sees the glowing opportunity and grabs it. “I might be convinced not to tell my uncle, and Dalla might not inform her father of your treachery. There are only a few conditions.” 

 

“It would be a good idea to accept them.” Dalla suggests. 

 

“You will order your fighting men out of Iziz and leave the city immediately. You will honor your Liege Lord’s commands, including the trade embargo,” Steela orders. “And finally, you will swear to me.” 

 

Bralykburn swallows, his stubborn pride showing through.  _ “Swear to a Beast Rider?”  _

 

“Do it,” Dalla orders. “She’s the best representative for King Dendup you’re going to get. Swear your fealty or we’ll both assume you’re going to keep your traitorous ways.” 

 

Steela crosses her arms. 

 

“Well, Lord Bralykburn?” she asks. “Do you feel like facing the wrath of two Great Houses today?” 

 

He shoots them a look full of nothing but vitriol, and Dalla returns one of ice while Steela returns one of fire. 

 

After a long moment Bralykburn breaks his gaze, takes a deep breath, and kneels. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugo really should have known better than to mess with Steela of the House Gerrera, First of her name, the Unroasted, Leader of the Onderon rebels, Toppler of Kings and Tamer of Rupings.


	28. Too Like Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shara is now free to pursue a new love but she worries that she and Jamos might be moving too quickly. Hence the title from one of my favorite lines of Romeo and Juliet, “It is too Rash, too unadvised, too sudden, Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say, It lightens." ~ DK

With no further need to chaperon, Lana had decided she wanted to have the Polaris drop she and Dalla off back at the Hold. And then Marlon had decided to stay with her. Perhaps seeing the Harkons’ new addition had gotten them thinking about trying for a sibling for Dalla. 

 

Shara smiled as she watched their things are being brought down the gangplank to the dock. She wondered if Jamos was getting similar ideas. He had looked very natural holding little Miranda and he had been as good with the twins as he was with Dalla.

 

But Adria had pulled Shara aside before they left Harkon Hall.  _ "I wouldn't presume to order you about. You got enough of that from my sister,” she had said. “But if I could offer a piece of advice? Enjoy your freedom. Don't be in too big of a hurry to replace one sort of bondage with another." She nodded at Jamos. "No matter how pretty the package that it comes in. If it's meant to happen it will. Don't press it. Enjoy the journey." _

 

_ Enjoy the journey _ . That's what Shara planned to do. She noticed though, that as Jamos's things were being moved back to the Captain's cabin, her own had been left there as well. 

 

“Ness.” She pulled the crewman aside, hoping to keep things a bit quiet. “My things should be moved back to the smaller cabin.” 

 

He gave her a playfully confused frown. “We were under the impression that you were officially the Captain's Lady now.” Of course someone overheard him say it and several of them took up the chorus. 

 

She rolled her eyes and caught Jamos's grin across the deck where he was overseeing some other work. 

 

“Well actually,” she called over the voices brazenly. “I still prefer the title  _ Beast _ master.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively, only to be answered with catcalls and whistles. 

 

Jamos marched across the deck towards her. “Now who's getting the tongues wagging.” He took her in his arms and swung her around to a renewed cheers and singing. 

 

She pushed him away before he could kiss her. “I'm still having my own cabin, thanks!”

 

“Of course, Madam Beast Master.” He bowed to her. 

 

“You did say when I first signed on, that it was one of the privileges of the rank.” She reminded him.

 

“Aye. That I did.” He smirked. “However, as captain, I do reserve the right to promote members of my crew…”

 

She took a step towards him. “And I thought you didn't consider me to be a member of the crew.”

 

Jamos chuckled. “I consider you…” he pulled her close again. But he didn't get a chance to tell her. There was too much for the captain to do to prepare for the voyage. He groaned at the interruption. “Duty calls.”

 

“We're not done with this!” She yelled after him.

 

He lifted his hat to her and she rolled her eyes.

 

“Ness.” Shara caught the crewman again as he passed.

 

“Aye, Madam, master of the Beast?”

 

She lowered her voice. “I was told you would be the one to ask.”

 

“Has my sweet Maris been giving away all of my secrets?” He crossed his arms over his chest, haughtily.

 

“I would never divulge what a lady has told me in confidence.” She teased and then grew more serious. “No, it's about the captain. You were with him when he had a run in with a Hugo Brylik…”

 

“Bralykburn.” He nodded. “Aye. The Captain's first voyage after he was given the Polaris.” Ness patted the rail as if the ship was as dear to him as it was to Jamos. “Of course we couldn't call him Captain back then. Officially the captaincy can only be awarded after an officer turns 16. But we all knew it was his ship. Had special orders from Lord Alon to show him the ropes. Make sure he lived to see that Captain's title.” 

 

“Lana said Lord Alon’s health was failing.” Shara remembered.

 

“Aye. Bralykburn called the Blackwell brothers spoiled but they lost the thing they really wanted and needed, their father.” Ness touched his thumb to his lips and muttered, “Light of the salt gods.”

 

Shara repeated the motion and the phrase. She let the silence linger for a moment and then asked. “So it was after that first voyage when Jamos met Bralykburn in a pub?”

 

“Knew something had to be up with Hugo actin’ so friendly. Offerin’ to buy the kid drinks. He really was only a kid, but we were keepin’ an eye on things. Some things you gotta figure out for yourself and the captain learned what that much drinkin’ gets ye the next mornin’.” Ness grinned. “But it's the game you're wantin’ to hear about, aye?”

 

She nodded. 

 

“So ol’ Hugo offers to teach the boy how to play sabaac. Not like any of us couldn't have taught him how to play. It was more the novelty of the thing and the fact that the pirate was buyin’ the drinks as well. It was pretty even, wins and losses, once he got the hang of things. But Hugo's watchin’ all the time like a chirn for his opening to up the stakes. An’ finally, he must have had a Dxun of a hand. He bet everything he had.”

 

“Bralykburn bet everything?” She asked in disbelief.

 

“The whole Keep and everything in it. He's just darin’ the captain to call the bet.” And before I could stop him the kid says, 'The Hold's not mine but I've got a ship’.”

 

“What did you do?” Shara was engrossed in the tale now. 

 

“Took the cards out of the Captain's hand and told him he was done and it was time to go back to the ship. Left the chits on the table where they lay. Kid passed out before we got to the door of the pub, didn't remember a thing in the morning, had to tell him how he'd almost lost his ship.”

 

Shara shook her head. “And Bralykburn didn't stop him going, since you left the other winnings on the table?”

 

“Not after he saw the kid’s cards.” Ness smirked. “The captain had an Idiot's array. If I had let it go on…”

 

“He would have taken Hugo for everything he had.” She realized. 

 

“Not that he wouldn't have deserved it for trying to swindle a kid but he had a wife and kid of his own to support. Sounds like his luck has turned since then. Bralykburns have had a few good seasons. But he's not likely to forget.”

 

For a long time after they set off, Shara stood at the rail thinking over what she and heard. She was quiet during dinner and then excused herself to her cabin for an early night. 

 

Jamos rose from the table in the state room as well and followed. “Is everything alright?” He asked her.

 

“It should be, shouldn't it.” She smiled, wearily. “I'm just a little tired. It's been such an emotional whirlwind.”

 

He nodded in understanding but couldn't help reaching out to touch her cheek. “Go get some rest. I can't have my beast master falling asleep on the job tomorrow.” 

 

He wanted to kiss her goodnight. She could see it in his eyes. He might have rather not said goodnight at all and led her right back to his cabin but he respected her too much to suggest it and she was thankful that she didn't have to decline either politely or otherwise.

 

Back in the small cabin that had been hers for her first voyage aboard the Polaris, Shara was finally able to relax. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 

…

 

She was up early the next morning and had almost forgotten any of her previous misgivings. An unseasonably warm breeze was blowing and the sky glowed pink with the sunrise. Shara could hardly wait to get back in the water with the brylks. 

 

It didn't surprise her a bit when the captain sidled up next to her. “Well, someone's up bright and early this morning.”

 

She nodded. “It was too beautiful up here for me to stay in my cabin any longer.”

 

“Aye.” He agreed. “And you look refreshed. Did you sleep well?”

 

“I did, but I think part of it is just being on this deck with a purpose and a heading.” She looked at him and smiled. “The Polaris feels like home.”

 

Jamos took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “I'm glad to hear you say it. It always has for me too.”

 

“You were twelve, weren't you? But you had served on other ships before that?”

 

“Aye, of course.” He grinned. “From the time I could walk I had a deck under my feet. Must have served as cabin boy or midshipman on nearly every ship in the fleet. Father wanted Marlon to learn everything about running the Hold and being a Lord and he wanted me to learn everything about the sea.” There was a gleam in his eyes as he gestured out over the waters.

 

Shara almost hated to bring it up, seeing the joy on his face, but she had to ask. “And then your father got sick?”

 

He looked at her and sighed. “He was always sick. I guess it got progressively worse. That's the nature of the disease. But they didn't want me to see it.” A hard edge colored his voice. “And I think he knew, he'd never live to see me make captain. He wanted to see me enjoy my own ship before…” Jamos sniffed and his gaze went back to the sea. “I didn't get to say goodbye. I was leagues away on a voyage when I got the comm that he only had days left. I got back to the Hold in time to join in giving him back to the salt gods.”

 

“That's why you were so determined for me to get to see my father.” She rubbed his arm.

 

“I was so angry at them all for denying me that. But I don't know, maybe it was a good thing. My memories of him are when he was strong and laughing.”

 

Shara thought of her own father in the med center bed hooked up to machines and then she chose another memory, when she was little, and he was lifting her onto the back of a dalgo and showing her how to hold the reigns. 

 

“I was angry at them too because…” Jamos drew her attention again and looked her straight in the eyes. “When I finally learned about my father's disease they told me that I’m a … a carrier.” He was watching her closely as if sure she would bolt now that she knew the truth, that the dreaded Fartrad's condition was harbored in his genes.

 

Instead she reassured him with two words and a smile. “I'm not.”

 

“You're not…” he asked confused. “How could you possibly know…”

 

“I was tested almost the moment I walked into the Rash Estate.” 

 

“You were tested for Fartrad's Disease?” He asked again.

 

She nodded and then rushed through the explanation. “Lady Rash was furious when she found out how long we'd been trying for a child before she was able to do it but once the results were back she mellowed towards me considerably.”

 

Jamos frowned. “So you think… your ex-husband was a carrier?”

 

She swatted him playfully. “Are you upset that you and he have something in common?”

 

He grinned and pulled her close to him, whispering. “I can think of a few things I'd rather we had in common.” 

 

Shara giggled. “Well I don't think he was the only one. Melaana told me that when her parents were negotiating with the Bonteris for her betrothal, Dane had to provide a whole medical evaluation. And she had tests done while she was pregnant to make sure the baby was healthy because Brem didn't have any medical records.” The smile dropped from her face. The tests hadn't done them any good. Mel and the baby were still gone.

 

“What are the odds though?” Jamos mused. “I mean for both siblings to be carriers, one of their parents would have had to…”

 

“I accidentally walked in on Lady Rash having some sort of treatment once.” Shara admitted. “She claimed it was only a massage but I'm sure it was an experimental method to hold off the progress of the disease. She made me swear never to tell anyone what I suspected, especially her children. I'm also sure her manic mood swings were partially to do with her pain meds.”

 

“That doesn't excuse the way she treated you,” he said firmly.

 

“No, I don't suppose it does.” 

 

A sound drew Shara's attention to the water, a Brylk cry. There was something about it that gave her pause.

 

“And yet she's nothing at all like her sister.” Jamos didn't seem to have noticed the brylks. “You seemed to be getting along well with Adria.”

 

“After my initial shock at their resemblance.” She gave him half a smile while trying to focus on what the animals were attempting to tell her.

 

“Out of curiosity, what were you and Adria talking about before we left?” He asked her. “I was busy trying to convince Glover to find Elinor a better match than some Bralykburn so I didn't hear.”   
  
“Oh,” she tried to remember the thread of that conversation and distractedly answered, “bondage.”   
  
Jamos’s eyebrows hit the cloudless sky. “I...I didn't think the Harkons were into that sort of thing.”   
  
Shara laughed, realizing what she had said and compounded it. “Well, they weren't initially. But then Adria got a holobook,  _ Twenty-Five Shades of Red _ , I think it was called.”   
  


“Is that the reason there's a new baby at the Hall?” He asked with a smirk.   
  
Shara grinned, “I don't doubt it.” And then she heard the call again. Something was definitely going on with the brylks.

 

Jamos still didn't seem to have noticed. He was preoccupied with holding her, his lips close to her ear. “Is this something I should study up on?”

 

“Hold on.” She pushed out of his embrace and looked over the side of the rail at the water below. It was churning with the urgent swimming of the beasts. “Something's wrong.”

 

It took him a moment to change gears and then he was at her side picking up on her worry. “What is it?”

 

“The brylks, can't you see?” She wasn't even sure of it herself. “I think they can sense something coming, some kind of danger.”

 

He was looking to her, putting his trust in her. “Do you know? Can you tell what it is?”

 

She shook her head and looked around her. It was a beautiful day the sun rise and the warm breeze, not a cloud in the sky except that one, little one, far off on the horizon and then it came to her in a flash of intuition, maybe something she remembered from the beast master's guidebook holo she had been reading not long ago. “I think there's going to be a storm.”

 

Another cry from the water below made her even more sure of the assumption. “I think we need to find a harbor.”

 

Jamos held onto her upper arms and looked directly into her eyes. “Are you sure?” 

 

“I…” she wasn't, not absolutely, but every beast rider instinct within her was telling her to trust the brylks. “I don't know the sea like you do, but I know what it feels like before the fambaas herd stampedes to find shelter from the weather. It's…” she looked down over the rail again. “They want us to get to safety.”

 

“Then we will!” He gave her shoulders a squeeze and kissed her forehead. And then he was off doing what he did best. “What's the closest harbor to our present position?” His voice boomed out over the whole deck.

 

“Flint Locke!” Came the answer from the navigator at the helm. 

 

“Flint Locke.” Jamos repeated quietly trying to remember what he knew of the place. “It's a small town but the bay offers good shelter.” Then he nodded as he made the decision and gave the order. “All hands on deck! We make for Flint Locke with all speed!”

 

The crew obeyed, whether they believed in the worries of an untested girl from the south or not. They knew she could bring in a catch but a few of them looked at her like they wondered if all this was necessary as they raced around the deck and up and down through the rigging. But before they reached the the harbor the wind had started to pick up and the rain had started to fall. 

 

Jamos had told her to go below to her cabin so she could stay warm and dry, but she was a part of this crew, no matter what he considered her to be, and she wouldn't put her own comfort above doing her job. She stayed by the rail, watching the brylks for any sign that they should change their heading. 

 

She could tell he was frustrated with her for putting her own life at risk even though she was staying out of the way of the other sailors. As the waves grew higher he sent Ness to tie line around her waist so she could be pulled back on board if she did chance to go over.

 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the the mate in the nest called out that Flint Locke Bay was in sight. Jamos would brook no argument that Shara was to be among the first to go ashore. He, on the other hand, stayed with the ship until the last sail was stowed and the last hatch was battened. 

 

She paced the common room of the small inn, while Ness tried to reassure her that everything would be fine now. She had done her job better than anyone had thought possible and now she had to let the captain do his. 

 

No one else seemed worried. They were drinking to her health and settling down to wait out the storm. Shara knew she wouldn't be able to relax until the captain was safe here with the rest of them. 

 

And then, he blew in the door with a great gust of wind and a laugh. She rushed to him and hugged him tightly despite his soaked clothing. There was a loud round of cheers and quite a few voices took up a chorus of 'the Captain's Lady’. But that was quickly overhauled by a new set of lyrics, something about the Beast master and her beast. 

 

“They're very creative, aren't they?” She had to speak loudly for him to hear her over the noise. 

 

He only gazed at her. 

 

The two of them were shunted up the stairs towards the one guest bedroom that the inn had available. The door was shut behind them and then they were alone. 

 

In the relative quiet she could hear the rain lashing against the storm shutters that covered the window. She crossed the room to it now, even though she couldn't see out, arms wrapped around herself as if she was cold. And maybe she was. She did seem to be trembling. But that may have been because she'd been so worried about him. Or because they were alone together now after all the excitement and adrenaline rush and everyone most likely expected that they would… 

 

She glanced at the room’s one bed and then was startled by his voice.

 

“I think you saved the ship.” Jamos had collapsed onto a chair and was pulling off his sea boots.

 

“I was just…” she began and then focused her gaze once again on the closed window.

 

“And all our lives.” 

 

She heard him stand and pad towards her in stocking feet across the creaky wooden floor. She gave a small gasp when he stepped up behind her and his arms went around her. 

 

“Shara, I love you.” He chuckled. “And not just because of this. You're free now. Please, say you’ll marry me.” With one hand he pushed her still damp hair to one side and kissed her neck just below her ear. 

 

“Jamos, I…” How easy it would be just to melt into his embrace, but Adria's words came back to her.  _ Don't be in too big of a hurry to replace one sort of bondage with another.  _ Is that what she was doing?

 

She began again more firmly, “Jamos, I can't.”

 

His lips left her throat but his arms stayed tight around her.

 

“I'm not ready.” She turned towards him, still in his embrace, and placed a hand on his bearded cheek. “It's not that I want anyone else. When the time comes, I know you are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.” 

 

He smiled and almost spoke but she put her fingers over his lips to stop him and let her finish. 

 

“I was only 16 when I met him. I hardly knew who I was. And then he was such a big part of my identity for so long. And now…” she swallowed, knowing she was doing the right thing. “I need to find out who I am, on my own, without him.”

 

He took her hand in his and kissed it. “I'd like to know who you are without him too.” He grinned his little boy grin. “And as much as I'd like to have you as my own right now, I will wait until you're ready. If…” he looked questioningly at her.

 

“If?” 

 

“If you'll allow me to find out along with you?”

 

She smiled and nodded.

 

“Of course no matter what happens, if we stay together in this room tonight, the whole crew is going to think…”

 

“Let them think what they want.” She sighed. “This is between you and me.”

 

“Alright.” He let go of her and took a step back, surveying their surroundings. He took one of the pillows from the bed and dropped it onto the floor. Then without further ado he laid down and tried to make himself comfortable. 

 

“What are you doing?” She asked with a laugh. 

 

“I'm going to sleep here.” He grinned up at her. “I promised to wait till you're ready but if I have to lie with you on that bed I really don't know how long I'd be able to keep that promise.” 

 

Shara laid down on the bed on her stomach, looking over the edge of the mattress at his smiling face. Then she reached down with one hand and laced her fingers with his. “Thank you, Jamos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thank you for reading and reviewing! To accompany this chapter there will be a new topic added to the forum concerning the health and wellness of the people of Onderon. Come and join in the conversation!
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/myforums/DuchessKenobi/272031/


	29. It's the End of the World, Thias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rebels may have taken care of the Bralykburns, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t problems coming from the north. World-ending problems. -LS

Long after the hologram fizzles out with Bralykburn on one knee, Lux stares at the two girls with a mixture of fear and awe.

 

“We did it,” Dalla says, stupefied. “We got Hugo Bralykburn to bend the knee.”

 

“You two terrified him,” Lux gapes. “You threatened him with the wrath of two Great Houses and all their might. And you  _ yelled _ at him.” 

 

Steela’s shock wears off before the others’ and she swivels on her toes to stare down Dalla. “The Lady of House Gerrera?” 

 

Dalla shrinks. “Hey, it worked.” 

 

“Really Dalla?  _ Really?  _ I don’t have a noble bone in my body --.” 

 

“You would actually make an incredible Lady,” Lux interrupts. “People like you, you care about them, and you can get them to do what you want. I’d put you in charge of my holdfast.” 

 

“Oh, yeah,” she scoffs. “My awesome diplomacy skills just shone through there, where Lord Bralykburn walked all over me until the actual Lady showed up.” 

 

“That’s because it’s the  _ Bralykburns.  _ You were still doing all the diplomacy; I was just your northern cheerleader in the background,” Dalla explains. “If it was a normal negotiation, you would have been fine.” 

 

“Still! Now that he thinks I’m noble he’s going to tell other people, and they’re going to talk, and this whole thing is going to get out of control once they realize it’s a lie.” 

 

“It’s not actually a lie,” Lux muses. “Since your mother died you technically inherit her position as lady of the house.” 

 

“That’s lady with a lowercase L. Dalla said Lady with a capital L. Capital L Lady means nobility, Lux! And my mother wasn’t nobility.” 

 

“Your brother calls Bremon Kira Uncle Brem!” Dalla protests. “That makes you a lesser --.” 

 

“We’re not actually related, Dalla!” 

 

Dalla’s plan goes straight to Dxun. “Oh…” 

 

“Enough, both of you!” Lux raps out. “If there's damage it’s done. Bralykburn’s bent the knee, now all we have to do is make sure he keeps his word. His record regarding that isn't exactly spotless.”

 

“He’ll move out of the harbor but he’ll take his sweet time doing it,” Dalla sighs. 

 

Lux’s eyes shine devilishly. “Why don't we help him with that?” 

 

Steela rubs her temples. 

 

“Don't say another word, Lux. I’m getting Ahsoka before this goes any farther downhill.”

 

…

 

“Wait, I'm a Lord?” Saw asks when Steela finishes explaining the transmission.

 

“No Saw, you are not actually a Lord,” she groans.

 

“Well congratulations on getting them to kneel,” Ahsoka changes the subject. “That’s one less thing to worry about.” 

 

“And I plan on making sure it stays that way,” Lux interjects. “The sooner the Bralykburns leave the sooner we don’t have to worry about them, and a display of strength will show them that we’re serious, like it did with the power generator.’ 

 

Ahsoka raises an eye marking. “What did you have in mind?” 

 

“Just a little something.” He pulls a comlink out of his pocket, dials, and settles into a comfortable position while it rings. 

 

“Hello?” he says. “Yes, I’d like to speak to whoever runs your harbor.” 

 

“Lux, what are you doing?” Steela demands. 

 

Lux covers the receiver with his hand. “Getting rid of the Bralyk -- hey, is this the guy in charge? Thank gods I finally got ahold of you. There’s a ship in the harbor that needs to be towed away.” 

 

Dalla and Saw sit bolt upright and Steela’s jaw falls open. Ahsoka rubs her temples and mumbles “He had to do this.” 

 

“She’s a northern ship, flying a red banner with a…” he gestures to Dalla to help him. 

 

“A blue stream.” 

 

“A blue stream! Don’t ask me any clan names because … I don’t know, maybe they got sick of freezing to death and came down for vacation? Anyway, she’s blocking our access to the Royal fleet, which we need to do our repair work. I had my secretary call their captain and he called her some not too repeatable names.” 

 

“First I’m a Lady, now I’m a secretary. Oh how my job description changes,” Steela grumbles. Saw gently elbows her.

 

“Yeah, so you’ve gotta tow her! Her entire crew’s on board, just throw your lines and pull them out to the river.” Lux listens a few more seconds. “My name? Yeah, it’s Ed Teach… T-E-A-C-H  … Well it’s about time. Thank you, officer!” 

 

“What the heck was that?” Saw demands when Lux hangs up. 

 

“I just got rid of the Bralykburns,” Lux preens. “The harbor police are going to tow them to the river as we speak.” 

 

Steela’s and Ahsoka’s eyes light up in admiration. 

 

“Nicely done,” Ahsoka praises. “Now if we’re done dealing with them, let’s go talk to the people again. They need to know you’re still here.” She smirks. “And they need to know about their new Lady.”  

 

…

 

While the harbor police tow the Bralykburns to the river (“Edward Teach?” their captain roars at the harbor police. “The bastard who complained said he was  _ Edward kriffin’ Teach?”)  _ a little sailboat cuts past them, captained by a young boy.

 

Thias Blackwell picks a random dock and ties off his bowline. He furls the sail and shoves everything from the deck into the tiny cabin before stepping onto the dock and heading for the city of Iziz with a spring in his step.

 

_ I’ve got this,  _ he thinks, his hands jammed in his pockets.  _ I’ve totally got this.  _

 

His confidence gets an unexpected boost when a droid patrol stops him before he enters the city. When Father talked about them they always sounded scary, but in person Thias thinks they’re more stupid than anything. 

 

A mechanical arm blocks his route to the gates. “Identification, please,” it orders. 

 

Thias looks into its photoreceptors. “I’m fourteen.” 

 

“Fourteen?” the droid repeats. 

 

“Yeah, so I’m not old enough to have ID.” Thias prays ID issuing is the same in Iziz as in the north. 

 

The droid pauses for a moment to fact-check his statement, then lowers its arm. “Proceed.” 

 

_ Nailed it,  _ Thias mentally crows.  _ This is going to be so easy. Why didn't Father just come clean about where Dal is and let me come down?  _

 

And then he steps through the gates and the chaos of Iziz during rush hour hits him. 

 

_ Maybe this isn't going to be so easy.  _

 

Thias shakes off his apprehension and steps into the flow of traffic. He picks a nice-looking family and decides to follow them while he works out a plan for how he's going to find his sister in a city which, he can see now, is a lot bigger than he thought. 

 

_ I really should have done that in the boat,  _ he admits to himself and picks another person to follow after the nice-looking family goes into a building.  _ Now what am I going to do? It’s not like there are going to be signs pointing to wherever the rebels are.  _

 

_ Okay, calm down. If worse comes to worse you can sleep on the boat and then try again tomorrow. You have almost the whole day. Just start looking. _

 

He buys a sweet from a vendor to put himself in a better mood, and starts walking.

 

As he wanders the streets of Iziz, he looks for anyone who looks suspicious or might be carrying a weapon until he realizes it’s useless. Of course a bunch of outlaws would be trying not to look suspicious! 

 

Next he aims for high-traffic areas, where the rebels would probably have someone to monitor. He even braves walking under the hundred serpent banners near the Royal Palace to see if anyone’s casing the place out. Of course no one is, but Thias accidentally on purpose kicks one of the banners’ support poles. 

 

He follows the main road and ends up in the large market by the docks.  _ That's great, just great. I’ve gone in a circle.  _

 

_ I need a break,  _ he decides and sits down on a bench to rest his aching feet. He checks the position of the sun in the sky. It has to be mid-afternoon by now.

 

As Thias watches the chaos of the market, a cloaked young man pokes past a vendor’s stall and pauses by a stack of crates. He rests his hand on top of them for a second and then moves on. 

 

_ Maybe he should be the next person I follow,  _ Thias thinks and watches the young man meet up with a similarly hooded woman. Not human, Togruta maybe? He’d need a closer look to tell for sure. 

 

Thias is snapped out of his thoughts by a massive hologram exploding from the top of the crates. 

 

The woman in the hologram is about his sister’s age, very tall, and hefts a sniper rifle over her shoulder. Thias grins with victory. She has to be one of them! Nobody else would carry a rifle.

 

_ “People of Onderon,”  _ the woman addresses the thousands listening to her.  _ “The time has come to take back our freedom. We have all been deceived. King Rash is a traitor, who has sold Onderon to the Separatists for the crown.” _

 

If only she was really there, that Thias could run up to her and ask where his sister was, or better yet find Dalla in her ranks. But he can’t do that to a hologram. He could grab the disk and try and trace the comm, but he’s no Emoth and they probably cloaked it anyway -- 

 

_ Or you can tail the guy who planted it, doofus!  _

 

Thias gets up as nonchalantly as possible while the woman’s still talking and follows the cloaked young man and Togruta woman. They whisper as they walk, like lovers or people trying not to be heard. 

 

He thinks he’s doing a good job at it too. He keeps a good distance away, and when it looks like the man or woman are going to look behind them he ducks into an alley. It’s all going great until the couple quickly rounds a bend and someone snatches Thias from behind and pulls him into the alley. 

 

He thrashes but the man holds him tight, yanking him further into the alley. “Easy, kid!” he orders. “I’m not a kidnapper!” 

 

Thias tries to yell something like “Sure you’re not!” but the man covers his mouth with his hand. 

 

“I grabbed you because you were tailing my friend. When I let go, you’re going to tell me who you are and why you were doin’ it. Deal?”

 

Thias nods as best he can and the man loosens his grip on him.

 

“I'm looking for my sister and I think your friend knows where she is,” he says. “My name is Thias Blackwell.”

 

The man pulls out a comlink, and turns a little to look at Thias better without giving him a view of his face. Then he huffs and releases him. 

 

_ “Another  _ Blackwell?” He cries. He’s dark-skinned, with a soul patch shaved into two sections and a streak of orange in his hair. “How many of you all are there?”

 

“Well our mother was a Flint…”

 

“And you’re just going to keep trickling down here one by one?”

 

Thias grins. “We are the deep.”

 

“Of course,” the guy snorts. “If there was any doubt you've cleared it up. Only lordlings would say something dumb like that.”

 

“It's not dumb! And how did you --.”

 

The guy wordlessly holds out a comlink displaying image results for “Thias Blackwell.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Kid, your sister is going to be pissed,” he says, stashing the comlink.

 

“Who are you?” Thias demands. “And how do I know you know my sister?”

 

“I'm Saw,” he says. “And I don't have a holo of Dalla and I together, if that's what you’re asking. But look at me close. Did you see the woman in the hologram?”

 

Thias squints, but he doesn't have to. As soon as Saw points it out he sees it. The nose, the curve of the cheekbones. Genetics. “You’re related.”

 

“Took you long enough,” Saw takes his arm. “Come on. We’re going inside before any droids see us.”

 

He brings Thias around the back of a house and lets him in through a side door. For a second every safety lecture Thias ever sat through flashes through his head, but he pushes them aside and follows Saw. 

 

“So is this your secret base?” he asks once they’re inside. It doesn’t look much like a base, more like a party with less fun and more tension. 

 

“One of them,” Saw says and brings him into something that looks like a living room. “Take a seat, kid. And prepare for death. Your sister is going to --.” 

 

“Death?” Another young man interrupts and pushes forward. This one’s dark-haired with light eyes, sort of like the woman who gave him candied jogans. 

 

When Thias puts it together he relaxes immensely. “Lux Bonteri?”

 

Lux stares at him for a while until realization hits. “Oh, no.  _ Thias?”  _

 

Saw nods. “Yeah, that’s what I was trying to tell him. When Steela finds out, she’s going to flip!” 

 

“Steela’s the least of our problems. Dalla’s going to flip worse than she would, and -- Saw, what if they team up? We know what happens when they team up.” The blood drains from Lux’s face. “We have to do something. We have to give them some kind of buffer, where we can tell them he’s coming without him being here to stir their anger.” 

 

“You think that’s actually going to stop Mount St. Steela?” 

 

Thias is honestly more concerned about Mount St. Dalla, mainly because he’s related to that mountain.

 

“It’s the best we can do,” Lux says. “You take him somewhere he’ll be safe, and we’ll just let this simmer for a day or two. I’ll tell the girls I got a comm, nobody is going to notice.” 

 

“Nobody is going to notice what?”

 

The terror freezes on Lux’s and Saw’s faces at the sound of the woman’s voice. 

 

The two turn around, pasting on calm masks as they do so. When they move Thias catches a glimpse of the speaker, the Togruta woman from the market square, flanked by the woman from the hologram. 

 

And --  oh yeah, he definitely came to the right place. 

 

“Nothing, Ahsoka,” Lux lies. “Just some minor field operations. Nothing to be concerned about.” 

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” the woman from the hologram replies. “What are you trying to slide past us? Who’s the kid?” 

 

“Nothing. Yeez, Steela, why is everything a conspiracy to you?” Saw groans. “Kid’s a street rat who broke in looking for some food to steal. We think we’ll hand him over to Werda; she’s cool and she’s got to have a place in the tunnels. He’s no leak, as long as we give him a place to stay. Tell them, kid.” 

 

But Thias can’t tell them anything. Not now. Not staring down the person on Ahsoka’s left, who’s so angry her breath whistles between her clenched teeth. 

 

Thias shrinks into the couch, making himself as small as possible.

 

“H-hi, Dalla,” he squeaks.  

 

“It’s the end of the world, Thias.” Dalla growls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and please share your thoughts in the comments or in the forum. DK and I would love to talk with you all and we aren’t scary, we swear!


	30. The Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a joint effort between LS and I. It takes all hands to clean up after a northern storm. ~ DK

Blackhold

The rain and wind hammered against Marlon’s bedroom window, only drowned out by his daughter’s shrieks. The drop in pressure hurt Dalla’s ears, and Lana had brought her from the nursery in the hopes that having both parents around would help soothe her. He hoped it worked. So far Lana had tried to give their little girl the breast, a pacifier, and a finger dipped in sweet juice to get her to swallow so her ears would pop, but Dalla was having none of it in favor of screaming. 

 

“Please,” Lana begged once more, holding up the pacifier. “It’ll make you feel better, Dalla. Just take your binky.” 

 

“Here, let me try.” Marlon scooped up his daughter and bounced her on his hip around the room. It was better than just sitting there, watching the rain. 

 

Relieved of their daughter Lana sat back in her chair and directed her attention back to the storm. “Salt gods, this one’s a monster.” 

 

“Aye.” Instead of thinking about the monster storm and who was currently caught in it Marlon turned back to Dalla and distractedly stuck out his finger. Dalla stared at it like she’d never seen it before, but then she grasped it with one hand and stuck it in her mouth. 

 

Lana threw up her hands. “Of course you have the touch.” 

 

“I think she needed someone new, that’s all.” With the baby taken care of there was nothing to distract him from the weather. 

 

Lana noticed. “Marlon, I’m sure he’s fine. Jamos is one of the best captains I’ve ever seen; I’m sure he saw the signs and put into harbor.” 

 

“Aye, if he had time to find one.” He’d been on land, and still he and his crew had barely had time to batten down before the storm hit and he had to run back to the Hold in the driving rain. He could barely see the harbor through the tempest but what he could make out looked like a danger zone. Out on the open water, it would be a deathtrap. 

 

Marlon wished he could comm his brother to at least know where he was and if he’d made it to harbor, but the storm had taken that from him too. He’d only been able to muster the fuzziest of connections to Glover in the early hours, and even that was gone now. The comms were out until the storm passed. There was nothing to do but wait and pray to the salt gods. 

 

Dalla made a satisfied sound and he kissed the top of her head, then crossed over to the bed and sat leaning against the headboard. 

 

“Thank the gods we’re back here,” Lana lay down on her side, shoulder to shoulder with Marlon. “I can’t imagine if we had her out on the water in this. What would we have done?” 

 

“Everything we could.” 

 

“And what is everything we could?” 

“I'm not sure,” Marlon admitted. All he knew is that whatever it was, he’d do it. He’d dive headfirst into the churning sea, he’d swim up to a hungry Chirn, he’d pay any price if it meant saving his daughter. 

 

Just then there was a thunderclap and Lana shivered. “Salt gods, I hate storms.”

 

If the situation had been any lighter Marlon would have laughed that Lana Blackwell, who threatened to fight the Rashes on the steps of the palace, was afraid of storms. As it was he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. 

 

“Jamos had to have found a harbor,” she said, leaning her head on Marlon’s shoulder. “He wouldn't do anything reckless with Shara on board.”

 

“You’re right.” Even though he wasn't so sure and was going to call Jamos the second the comm channels came back online. Before Glover Harkon disappeared into static, he’d managed to set up a plan for the rescue efforts that would no doubt be needed when this was over.

 

Before he could finish the thought, another thunderclap rang out, louder than the first. Dalla startled from her drowsy position on Marlon’s chest, spat out his finger, and screamed. 

 

“Looks like hating storms is genetic,” he grumbled as both parents rushed to soothe her again. 

 

He must have fallen asleep with his family because the next thing he knew the sun was shining through the storm shutters and his comlink was ringing on the bedside table beside him. 

 

Marlon snatched up the unit and tiptoed to the other side of his room, forking a hand through his hair so it wouldn't look like he’d just rolled out of bed. As soon as he’d done it he pressed the activation button and Glover materialized over the unit.

“Glove!” His best friend was wearing fishing leathers and looked like he’d been through hell (or more accurately, the cyclone which had just been raging). He must have already been on the water, and Marlon kicked himself for falling asleep. “Glove, what is it? Is it Jamos?”

 

_ “Sort of,”  _ Glover looked over at something past the hologram’s field.  _ “We left the Hall as soon as the worst of the storm was past. Adria almost killed me for it, but salt gods are we glad we left when we did.  Marlon, I’m sorry but I won’t be able to help you look for your brother. The Bralykburns are in a bad way.”  _

 

Marlon knew what that meant after a storm. “How bad is it?” 

 

_ “Bad. There weren’t many survivors. Hugo’s a wreck, his little girl has hypothermia and she’s sicker than a cog, and his wife and son ...”  _ Glover shook his head. _ “Lady Bralykburn and Dominic didn’t make it.”  _

 

Marlon closed his eyes. “In the light of the salt gods.” 

 

_ “In the light of the salt gods. Poor kid was serving his first voyage.”  _ He blinked to clear his head. _ “I’m taking them back to the Hall. They don’t have the strength to make any side trips.”  _

 

“I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?” 

 

_ “I have it under control right now.”  _

 

Marlon nodded and then asked his main, burning question. “Have you heard anything from Jamos?” 

 

_ “Haven’t gotten the chance. I was just about to comm him when the second mate heard Talia’s cog barking to Dxun and we changed our heading to look for them. I’ll admit, Marlon, when we found them I forgot all about your brother till now.”  _

 

_ “Mr. Glover, are you talking about my cog? Is he okay?”  _

 

Glover turned from Marlon to someone outside the holofield. _ “Go back to sleep, Talia. You need your rest.”  _

 

_ “But my cog? He was barking so much and I don’t hear him now.”  _

 

_ “Honey, he’s fine. He’s sleeping, like you should be. Here, do you want to see someone?”   _ Glover stepped out for a second and returned with a young girl wearing a comically oversized men’s shirt.  _ “This is my friend Marlon. He’s the Lord of the North.”  _

 

Marlon waved _.  _ “Hello, Talia.” 

 

_ “Hi, my lord,”  _ she sniffed and wiped her nose on the enormous sleeve. 

 

“Are you staying in Glover’s cabin?” 

 

_ “Uh-huh. Papa was supposed to, but he switched with me.”  _

 

_ “It’s warmer here than in the first mate’s cabin,”  _ Glover explained both to Marlon and Talia. _ “You were like a block of ice when we pulled you out of the water.”  _

 

_ “Papa was cold too. Where is he?”  _

 

_ “Taking a nap.”  _

 

_ “I wanna see him. Can I go see him?” _

 

A brilliant idea came to Marlon before Glover had to answer _.  _ “Talia, has Mr. Glover shown you his magic trick?” 

 

Immediately the child’s attention was on him.  _ “Magic trick?”  _

 

Glover jumped on the distraction. _ “I almost forgot my magic trick!”  _ he announced and knelt before Talia to show her a little trick where it looked like his thumb had been severed. She smiled and Glover scooped her up again.  _ “Why don’t you go back to bed and when your Papa wakes up, we can show him too?”  _

 

Talia nodded and let Glover carry her out of the holofield. He returned a moment later, looking very relieved. _ “Thank you. Hugo’s more passed out than asleep; she can’t see him like that.” _

 

“I need to comm Jamos.” If the Bralykburns got into this much trouble then he didn’t feel great about Jamos’ chances. “I’ll be in contact later but if you need anything before then, just comm. I’ll be near a unit.” Whether that unit was the one at the Hold or on his ship remained to be said. 

 

_ “Hope it’s good news, or at least better news than Hugo’s.”  _ There was a crash somewhere outside the holofield and Glover’s head snapped in that direction. _ “Got to go. I’m praying for your brother, Marl.”  _

 

“So am I,” Marlon murmured. The instant the comm cut out he entered Jamos’ frequency as fast as he could. “Believe me, so am I.” 

 

… 

 

Flint Locke

There really was no hope whatever that the captain and the beast master might descend from their room without some sort of fuss from the crew who had spent the night in the common room below. 

 

“Here they come!” Shara heard someone (most likely Ness) call as soon as she had opened the door.

 

“Better get this over with,” said Jamos over her shoulder. The klick wide grin on his face belied the words.

 

She rolled her eyes and walked down the steps as stately as any great lady. That is before Jamos raced down beside her, took her hand in his, and kissed her cheek. They were met with a roar of applause. 

 

Shara took the moment to lean over to him and whisper. “You really are a beast.”

 

“Aye, but you love me.” He whispered back.

 

“I don't recall ever saying that.”

 

“Oh well, yes you did.” He argued. “At salt and light and to your goddaughter no less. I believe your exact words were, 'we all love Uncle Jamos’.”

 

“Are you really going to use something I said to my sweet, innocent, little goddaughter, against me?” She gave him a wounded look.

 

“Against you?” He asked, with mock-injured pride. “Never! I'd say it works out very much in your favor.”

 

She was going to respond with a snappy comeback before Ness called out. “Oh, watch out lads! Trouble in Paradise!”

 

There was another cheer and then the couple were ushered to places of honor for a breakfast on the house. There was an air of celebration as the crew honored the beast master's quick thinking and the Captain's decisive action that had saved them all. Not to mention their supposed first night together. 

 

Jamos ate it up. Shara endured more quietly with a blush in her cheeks that only gave more fuel to the suspicions. 

 

And then someone mentioned how lucky it was that the Lord and Lady and the little princess had decided to stay back at the Hold. 

 

“Jamos,” Shara leaned over toward him. “Did you ever comm them to let them know we're alright?”

 

“Oh kriff, you're right! I should do that. Marlon is probably about out of his mind. It's a wonder he hasn't tried to comm us already.” He fumbled for his comm unit in his pocket but when he retrieved it he found there was no signal. “Explains that. Flint Locke is a pretty small place. If the signal got knocked out during the storm, it'll be awhile before they get it up again.” He put the device back in his pocket, unperturbed, and went back to his nerf steak.

 

“Shouldn’t we find a place that does have a signal so we can get word to them?” She inquired.

 

“We will. I'm not going to turn down a free breakfast.” He patted her hand and then gestured towards the crew. “They're celebrating that they’re alive and they have you to thank for that. Don't worry. As soon as we're on the water again we'll find a signal and let them know we're okay.”

 

“Alright.” She nodded not completely appeased. She wished they could finish this and get on their way.

It was another hour before they had all finished eating and thanking the owners for their hospitality. As it turned out they were cousins of Maris’s, so Ness had to spend another several minutes talking to them and inviting them to their wedding at the Hold in the fall. 

 

Finally they all stepped out of the inn and for a moment they were all speechless. The storm had done it's damage to the little town and to the boats in the harbor. There were several exclamations of thanks to the salt gods for guiding them to a place of refuge and Shara was given a few grateful pats on the shoulder. 

 

“We really need to get in touch with Marlon and Lana.” Shara said. “Gods, I hope no one else was caught out in this.”

 

“So do I.” Jamos swallowed guiltily. “I hope the Bralykburns found a harbor.” 

 

“That's right! They were…” Shara's hand flew to her mouth. Suddenly her big breakfast wasn't sitting so well on her stomach. How could they have been celebrating when there were probably still people out there?

 

He gave her hand a squeeze and then Jamos's air of command returned. He addressed his crew, “We were very fortunate to have an early warning and a place to shelter during this storm but others may not have been so lucky. I want every manjack of you working hard to get the Polaris back in action so we can get out there and help anyone who might need our assistance. Do you hear me?”

 

“Aye, Captain!” They all chorused. 

 

Shara nodded her approval and pride.

 

… 

 

Harkon Hall

In one of the Hall’s guest rooms, Adria Harkon worked a comb through Talia’s tangled hair. 

 

“There you are.” She set the comb aside and tucked the girl’s hair behind her ears. “It may have taken a while, but we did it.”

 

“Thank you,” Talia slid off Adria’s lap and padded aimlessly around the room in her bare feet. Adria stayed seated on the edge of the bed and watched her. She certainly looked better than she did when the first mate carried her into the Hall on her father’s heels. Adria had snatched the shivering, feverish child wearing a man’s shirt from his arms and whisked her into the guest room so she didn’t have to watch Hugo stumble along with Glover’s support any longer. 

 

Now Talia was scrubbed pink, dressed in one of Elinor’s nightgowns and with meds running through her system to fight off the fever. Physically Adria wasn’t worried about her, sure she’d keep an eye on the fever and make sure the med doses didn’t lapse, but the hypothermia was no longer a concern. If she had learned one good thing from her sister, it was the many uses for wine. Before she left Sanda had downed carafes of the stuff on her bad days, and Adria knew that a cup of mulled wine would put a little warmth in anyone’s belly. She’d had Talia working on one while she combed her hair.  

 

Mentally was another story. Talia had just lost her mother and brother, and Adria wasn’t sure how much of it the five-year-old understood. But better not to push the issue now, while she was milling around the room looking lost. 

 

“Would you like to hear a story, Talia?” she offered. “We have lots of holobooks. I’m sure you and I can pick out something you’d like.” She wracked her mind for the last story she’d read to the twins and settled on Elinor’s favorite. “What about the one with the old house in Iziz that was covered in vines, and twelve little girls in two straight lines?” 

 

“No, thank you.” 

 

Adria was sick of reading that one anyway. “Well then what about the one with the big red cog?”

 

“My cog!” Talia jumped and suddenly Adria had her undivided attention. “I haven’t seen him. Where is he? Did he get lost? Dom made him a collar so he wouldn’t get lost.” 

 

“Oh no, he’s not lost. Mr. Glover put him in the kennels where he’d be safe.”  Not for the first time Adria thanked the salt gods that Hugo had bought his daughter the pup. If Glover’s crew hadn’t heard the creature barking, gods only knew what would have become of the Bralykburns. “Tell you what, why don’t you climb into bed and I’ll go get him and the cog book? Then we can all read it together.” 

 

Talia nodded and Adria stepped out on her retrieval mission.

 

…

 

Hugo

Pirate, the other clans called them. Aye, he knew it. But he still had a code of honor. For one, he would never cheat at cards. You played the hand you were dealt. And for another, a catch was an honest catch as long as it was taken on the high seas, even if it was at the point of a harpoon from another crew’s deck. Before the fish were unloaded at the dock and the credits exchanged hands, they were fair game. 

 

Hugo was at the point of considering that proposition, sitting there at the bar all those years ago. And he went back there in his fevered dreams. 

 

_ All he had wanted was to go home to his beautiful wife, to lie in her bed, and maybe put another baby in her belly, but how could he do that when he didn't have enough credits to feed the son they already had. His father, the great Lord Bralykburn, had left him with nothing. The entire family fortune had been drunk and gambled away, leaving Hugo with a fleet of leaking tubs and a drafty, crumbling castle.  _

 

_ Yanara didn't mind. She'd come from nothing, but Hugo loved her, raised her to the status of a lady, for what it was worth. And she'd given him a son, a strong boy to carry on the name of Bralykburn when he was gone.  _

 

_ Hugo wanted to be the kind of man who Dominic could look up to. Not like his own father had been, salt gods rest him. Hugo touched a thumb to his lips self-consciously at the thought and then took another swig of his drink.  _

 

_ It was the thought of the boy that had kept him from going pirate up till now and the boy that made the option a consideration. He wouldn't have to know how his papa had gotten the next catch. He was only a little thing, barely two. He wouldn't understand even if his papa explained it to him. And it would only be till they were back on their feet. As soon as he could afford to pay a proper crew and make the necessary repairs to the ships, then Hugo would be back on the straight and narrow. He'd bring Dom on board as his cabin boy and teach him all he needed to know about the ways of the northmen, about ships and the sea… _

 

_ And then a new crew entered the bar. Singing and laughing, they had hoisted the beardless, spoiled, little lordling on their shoulders. Maybe Hugo wouldn't have to resort to plunder after all. Maybe he could make some honest chits and take this kid down a peg as well.  _

 

_ “Drinks for the Blackwhelp’s crew!” Hugo called out. _

 

_ The bartender whispered to him that he didn't have that kind of money to be thrown around but Hugo only winked at him. “Call it an investment. I'll be good for it by the time the night is over.” _

 

_ “It’s Blackwell.” The boy corrected him, as if he didn't know, and his voice creaked like a new mast in a gale. “Jamos Blackwell.” _

 

_ “Well, Jamos Blackwell, have you ever played sabaac?” _

 

_ “I know the basics, Sir.” He grinned. _

 

_ “How about if I teach you how to play a man's game?” _

 

_ They went to a table and started to play. Hugo kept the boy's tankard full and tried not to think about how that trusting expression reminded him of Dom. The boy was well and truly shloshed when the cards finally came up in Hugo's favor. He laid everything out on the table. _

 

_ “The Hold isn' mine t’ bet with.” The boy slurred. “But I gotta shhhhip. Iss bran new.” _

 

_ “Well, that'll be fine.” Hugo tried to hold down his excitement. He'd seen the craft Lord Blackwell had given the kid for a birthday present. It was a beauty, one of the finest ever produced by the Harkon shipwrights. And he couldn't lose, not with this hand.  _

 

_ If only the crewman, the boy's minder most likely, hadn't come up at that moment and taken the cards from his hand. He took one look at them and gave Hugo a pitying frown. “It's time to go, sir.” He practically had to lift the boy out of the chair. _

 

_ “Come on, Ness. It was jus gettin’ good.” Jamos giggled before he passed out in the man's arms.  _

 

_ Ness didn't attempt to gather the boy's winnings before he carried him out.  _

 

_ Hugo called after him. “Hey, we weren't done with that last hand.” _

 

_ “Aye, you were done.” The man replied before he disappeared with the boy out into the street. _

 

_ Hugo began to gather the chits from the table. He passed a few of them over to the barkeep to pay his debt for the drinks, and then he turned over Jamos Blackwell's cards. Idiot’s Array! Kriff him! _

 

_ Hugo's urgency to scrape every last credit off the table went into high gear. With what he had here, he could make a few repairs to his flagship. Maybe he could hire a better beast master for the next voyage. He would turn things around. He would do it for Yanara and Dominic. _

 

Dominic and Yanara! Hugo woke up crying their names. They were gone!

 

… 

 

Adria had just shut the guest room door behind her when Hugo started crying his wife’s and son’s names a few doors down. 

 

Glover raced past her to Hugo’s room but not before giving her a quick smile and nod of solidarity. Then he ducked into the door to take care of Hugo while she hurried off to fetch the book and the cog. 

 

When she returned with the book tucked under her left arm and the pup in her right Talia had another visitor. Elinor stood at the foot of the bed with her big eyes laser-focused on Talia.

 

“Did you give the pup a name?” Elinor asked, not seeing her mother with the creature in question. 

 

Talia shook her head. “Dom wants to name him Noodle.” 

 

The present tense didn’t sit well with Adria, nor did the moniker with Elinor. “Noodle?” 

 

“‘Noodle’ is a lovely name,” Adria spoke up and the children’s heads snapped over to her in the doorway. 

 

Elinor gave her mom the best innocent look she had in her arsenal and Talia reached out for the pup. “Noodle!” 

 

The pup -- Noodle -- leaped out of Adria’s arms and into its mistress’. Talia hugged it and buried her face in its fur as if she planned never to let it go. 

 

“Talia and I were talking about cogs,” Elinor announced. She must have thought she was going to get in trouble for sneaking in to visit their guest, but Adria couldn’t be angry. If Elinor could get Talia’s mind on a sunny topic for a while, then so be it. 

 

“I brought the holobook,” she said and held it up as evidence. “Talia, would you like to hear the big red cog story now? Ellie can stay with us if you’d like.” 

 

Talia nodded and Adria settled on the bed, a girl on either side of her and Noodle curled on Talia’s lap. If Adria was lucky they’d both fall asleep during the story and she could remove Elinor to let their guests get some much-needed rest. 

 

She’d barely gotten through the first three pages when the bedroom door opened and Hugo shuffled in, face still flushed and eyes gleaming with fever. He relaxed immensely seeing his daughter. 

 

“Papa!” Talia dumped Noodle on the bed and jumped into his arms. 

 

“You look better, Talia.” Hugo hugged her tight. “Are you feeling better?” 

 

“Aye, Papa.” And then she pulled back and asked him, with sheer five-year-old innocence, “Can we get Dom and Mama and go home now?” 

 

Hugo froze and then hugged Talia again so she wouldn’t see the tears streaming down his face. 

 

“Not now,” he choked. “We aren’t going home for a while.” 

 

A moment later Glover came racing into the room and looked relieved to see the father and daughter reunited. Adria went to his side. She was proud of her husband for all he had done to help this family… what was left of it.

 

“I thought he'd gone back to sleep,” Glover explained in a whisper to his wife. “And then I couldn't find him.” 

 

“Maybe we can set up the room for them to stay together.” Adria suggested. “I think they might prefer not to be apart.”

 

“Maybe you're right.” He agreed. “I can…” but whatever it was he was going to suggest was cut short by chime of his comm link. “That'll probably be Marl about his brother. I'll take it in the comm room.”

 

“Tell them, they're in my prayers.” Adria called after him as he slipped out of the room and down the hall.

 

Glover glanced at the ID on the comm and shut his eyes for a moment, relieved. It wasn't just Marlon but Jamos's own frequency. The younger Blackwell brother's image rose over the table with his signature grin. “ _ I already commed Marlon but he suggested I contact you all as well _ .” 

 

“I'm glad you did. Marlon told you, we have Hugo and his daughter here?”

 

“ _ He did, Glove _ .” Jamos sobered. “ _ Gods it's awful! If only we'd known, we could have gotten word to them somehow, warned them. Shara's really beating herself up about it _ .”

 

“How did you know? How did she…” Glover asked. He didn't hear someone enter the comm room behind him just out of the range of the holo field.

 

“ _ It was amazing _ .” A little of Jamos's grin returned as he related the tale. He couldn't help but speak with pride about the girl he loved. “ _ I've never seen a beast master like her. She could tell the brylks were acting strangely. She said it was like the fambaas down south when they're going to stampede. She knew somehow that they sensed danger and wanted us to get to a safe harbor, too. All I did was trust her instincts. Glove, I have no doubt that she saved all of us and the Polaris _ …”

 

“That southern witch!” Hugo came hurtling out of the shadows. “Saved your spoiled, kriffing arse and couldn't save my Yanara! She couldn't save my son!” 

 

Glover wrapped his arms around the man and tried to calm him but not before he put a fist through the projector unit effectively ending the comm and bloodying his hand in the shattered wreckage.

 

“She didn't know you were on the water. I'm sure Shara would have done everything she could to warn your family had she known.” Glover spoke evenly and attempted to hold Hugo back from doing any more damage to his wounded hand.

 

“Should have known you'd take her side! You and the Blackwells have always hung together against the rest of us! Blackwhelp gets a new whore and she's just part of the clan! Not even from the north! Don't know anything about our ways and he trusts her with his ship! With his crew! Is the  _ Lord _ gonna just hand over the whole northern sea to her now?”

 

It was Adria who saved them with her quick thinking. She snuck into the comm room while he was distracted and injected the hypo-sedative into his arm. It took effect quickly and she leant her strength to her husband to support the unconscious man.

 

…

 

Polaris

“What did they say?” Shara rushed to him as soon as Jamos had finished the comm. She had said she needed some air after they had commed the Hold together. 

 

Jamos was still a little shaky after what he had just heard and seen he was glad she hadn't been there to witness it as well. “They're in good hands. Hugo and the girl…”

 

“Talia.” Shara remembered.

 

“Aye, Talia. Glover and Adria are taking good care of them.” He held her close. He couldn't blame Hugo for the outburst. Jamos knew he would have been the same if he had lost Shara and… their child. 

 

And he had known! Looking back, the signs had been there! He knew the sea. The warm breeze, the pink tinge to the sky, they had heralded the coming storm and he had ignored them. He had been distracted. 

 

He wouldn't let that happen again. He would protect this woman. Whether she was ready to say vows or share his bed was irrelevant.

 

But just now he had to let go of her and do his job. They were nearly home. 

 

…

 

Marlon and Lana and Dalla were there at the dock to greet them and so was Maris. Ness was one of the first down the gangplank. He took the girl in his arms and swung her around. 

 

“I was that worried about you, Love.” They could hear her telling him.

 

“Bah. You know I'm like a bad credit chit. I always turn up.”

 

Shara smiled at them sadly.  Jamos could tell she was thinking about the other families who had lost loved ones in the storm.

 

“It's not your fault, you know. You can't save everyone, especially if they don't want to be saved, but you did make that reunion possible.”

 

She nodded and took his hand and together they disembarked.

 


	31. Throwdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With sibling war about to break out, the droids are about to become the least of the rebels’ problems. -LS

For the first thirty seconds, everything is fine. 

 

For the first thirty seconds Ahsoka and Steela manage the situation. They act as liaisons between the siblings: Steela stands in front of Dalla and talks to her while Ahsoka speaks with Thias. 

 

They speak among themselves too: they decide that since Marlon’s sent Thias south, now would be a good time to contact House Blackwell about a public alliance and northern reinforcements.   

For the first thirty seconds, Steela looks more excited than a child on their Life Day. But really anyone would be if their present was the northern fleet. 

 

On the thirty-first second, Thias says “Um, actually” and explains the circumstances of his trip to Iziz. 

 

As soon as that sinks in, Dalla bellows  _ “You ran away from home?”  _

 

And then it all goes to hell. 

 

…

 

“Quit yelling at me! It's not like you did any different!” Thias yells.

 

Dalla almost loses her mind. “Yes, I did! Father told me to leave, whereas you just took off without anyone knowing.”

 

“Nobody but Father knew about you!” 

 

“Father’s the important one! He probably thinks you’ve been kidnapped. What if he sends the navy, Thias? It's too early to do that! Rash will --.”

 

“He’s too smart to send the navy now.”

 

“For us? He'd do anything!” Dalla knows that better than she knows her own name. “Thias, what were you thinking?!”

 

“What were you thinking stealing my comm numbers?” He stands up on the couch but Lux scoops him up around the waist and puts him on the ground. “You could have just told me where you were going but  _ nooo…”  _

 

“Don’t try to pin this on me!” She looks to Lux and Ahsoka for support but both of them look supremely confused. She and Thias lapsed into Onderonian when their argument really got going, and they’re still going strong in the old language. Looks like Lux never learned and there was no way poor Ahsoka could know what they were saying. 

 

Saw and Steela are rapt. This must be straight out of the pages of their own sibling arguments. 

 

“If you’d just told me where you were going --” 

 

“Then there would have been an unnecessary leak. It was to protect you in case Rash came after you.” 

 

“Well nobody knows where I am, so we’re just as safe. Father probably thinks I’m just in my room or out sport fishing.”

 

Dalla resists the urge to pull her hair. “Not for  _ three days  _ during a  _ civil war,  _ Thias!” She realizes something. “What banners did you fly on the way down?” 

“What do you mean what banners did I fly? Ours of course.” 

 

She counts to ten to keep from screaming. 

 

“You mean to tell me you flew Blackwell banners out of Blackhold, to the mouth of the river, all the way down and into the harbor?” 

 

“I took them off before I got to the harbor, Dal. I’m not stupid.” 

 

“Thias! Probe droids! They’re everywhere; I was wearing Aunt Shara’s old southern stuff so they wouldn’t notice me and I flew Flint colors and I still got stopped at the marina. I don’t even want to think about how many droids and people saw those banners.” 

 

“Well sorry for not having a Flint banner on hand!” 

 

“Sweet drexls,  _ shut up!”  _ Steela roars in Onderonian and steps between them. “Both of you!” 

 

Both Thias and Dalla startle at the outburst. 

 

“Count Dooku could probably hear you two on Serenno!” she hisses. 

 

Dalla takes a deep breath to calm down. “Okay, I’m sorry. I lost it.” 

 

“Oh yeah you did,” Steela confirms. “You just gave Saw a run for his money.”

 

“I resent that,” Saw grumbles.

 

“The damage is done. All we can do is work with the cards we have now.” She nods to Thias. “If you two can speak to each other without yelling, I think some introductions are in order.”

 

“I already know Saw,” Thias pouts.

 

Dalla ignores the comment. “Thias, meet everyone. The guy who brought you in is Saw. Standing next to him is Lux Bonteri, our bannerman. Steela Gerrera is the leader and our best spokeswoman, and Ahsoka’s here as an advisor. Everyone, this is my brother Thias.”

 

Lux sticks out his hand to greet Thias formally. “It’s good to finally meet you, Thias.” 

 

“You too,” Her brother’s usual self-assured personality returns a little at the familiar courtesy. “Thanks for trying to stop the maelstrom, even if it didn’t work.”

 

“Hey, I came up with the ideas,” Saw interrupts. “If we’d had time before we got busted, you’d be in the catacombs now.” 

 

“Thank gods they didn’t,” Steela mutters under her breath. Dalla’s inclined to agree. Better they caught Thias the first day he was in the city, rather than after a few days of sneaking around under her nose. “Kid, I hate to ask because I'm sure you’re tired of explaining, but why are you down here?”

 

Thias glowers at Dalla. “I'm  _ here  _ because four days ago, Father got a delivery from Iziz. It's the betrothal contract, and it has his signature on it. So right now you and Sanjay Rash are engaged. Mazel tov.”

 

Dalla’s jaw drops  _ “What?  _ Father  _ signed  _ it?

 

“No! It's a signature and it's definitely Father’s. But he says it looks old. Like really old.”

 

She catches on. “Like Aunt-Shara’s-divorce-papers old?” 

 

“Aye, that old.”

 

If Dalla had a pillow right now she would scream the most vile curses Basic and Onderonian have to offer into it. Steela grabs her arm to keep her from doing it anyway. She takes a deep breath to tamper down her rage before it bubbles over. She had Rash for a lot of things, but forger wasn't one of them until now. 

 

“Do we have a place for him here?” she asks Steela, crossing her fingers. She could put Thias up in an inn or in Saw’s place in the catacombs, but considering their proximity to Rash and the way her brother thinks, she wants to keep him close.  

 

“As long as you’re good with him staying in the guys’ dormitory. We can probably find a blanket or something.”

 

“I don’t need a blanket,” Thias says and holds out his shirt collar to cool down.

 

“You need clothes,” Dalla realizes. Thias is still wearing the bottoms from his leathers and a heavy wool shirt. It’s a miracle the droids or heat stroke didn’t sideline him before now. “We don’t have any in your size either.” 

 

Steela rolls her eyes. “Do I even need to tell you who can find some?” 

 

She doesn’t. “On second thought, he can take the shirt I have now and I can wear Aunt Shara’s fruit shirt.” 

 

Dono stands up from a group of rebels hunkered down near the wall previously eavesdropping on the Blackwells’ argument. “Tell me I didn’t just hear fruit shirt.” 

Dalla nods gravely. “You did. If we don’t get clothes for Thias here, I’ll have to go back to wearing it. This shirt’s gender-neutral, right?” She gestures to her/Dono’s shirt, and then to Thias. 

 

“No chance!” Dono shrieks and grabs her helmet. “Kid, what size are you? Oh nevermind, just come with me to be sure that whatever we grab fits. Steela, don’t let anyone put the fruit shirt on!” 

 

…

 

Dalla wanted to go with Thias and Dono, but Steela vetoed that immediately. (“Little northern boy in fishing leathers along with a girl with her head wrapped in a scarf,” she scoffed. “Yeah, that’s not obvious at all.”) Next she tried to tell Thias to write down anything Dono spent so they could reimburse her after the war, when walking into a bank wouldn’t be like waving a giant flag and screaming “Here I am!” But Dono explained that away too: they weren’t going to actually buy anything. They were going shopping from donation bins. 

 

“Technically it’s stealing from the companies, but it’s sort of an emergency,” Dono shrugged. “Anyway most of them turn some kind of profit on it. They won’t miss one set of clothes.” 

 

She does manage to convince Saw to go along with them, just to make her and Thias feel better. If she can’t go then Saw’s the next best thing for Thias’ peace of mind, and she trusts him to keep her brother safe. 

 

While the three of them are gone Steela goes back to the briefing room supposedly to go over strike locations, but Dalla suspects it’s really for some peace and quiet after the maelstrom. Ahsoka claims she needs to comm her masters and claims the kitchen as her base of operations. Dalla heads for the storeroom to find Thias a blanket or count blaster cartridges or ration packs or do anything to keep her twitching hands busy. 

 

Lux goes with her. Looks like he needs to do something to keep from going insane too. 

 

“So that happened,” he says. 

 

“I honestly have no idea how he made it through the gates,” she admits. “It could have gone wrong so many ways, but it didn’t.” 

 

“I think we’d call that the will of the force,” he smiles halfway, but he’s still on edge. “And sometimes it takes insanity to win the day. Take you on the comm with the Bralykburns.” 

 

“Steela did all the work on that.”

 

“Oh, she did. She's brilliant. But you still showed your hand. You let them know you were here.” 

 

“It was a long shot,” she admits. “We had to trust that Steela’s intimidation and the threat of my father’s wrath work once they realized I heard everything.”

 

“But it was still practically suicide if they were fully allied with Rash,” He admonishes. “And I know you know that now and you knew it then.”

 

“It was stupid.”

 

“It was,” he agrees. “I thought you’d lost your mind until I thought about it a while. And then I realized what you did.” 

 

Uh oh. “I wasn’t doing anything. I just got angry and lost my senses.” 

 

Lux shuts the door behind them. “Dalla, I’m a lordling too. I know when people are playing the game and I know when they’re lying. You’re doing both right now.” 

 

“You think I’m going to tell you what I’m doing?” she whispers. “I’m trying to keep myself and Thias as far away from Sanjay Rash as physically possible. That’s all I’m doing.” 

 

“In that I have no doubt. We’re in the same room I told you about me and my...inheritance,” he swallows, still uncomfortable with the thought of being heir to the throne. “I trusted you enough to tell you that, you trusted me enough to invoke the banner oath getting here, now all I’m asking is for you to level with me. It’s not even that hard to figure out once you think about it and the situation. The Lady of House Gerrera. You could have said Steela was the rebellion’s leader, or just ordered him to apologize on the grounds of courtesy. But you went with the Lady of House Gerrera.” 

 

_ Kriff. He figured that one out.  _

 

“That wasn’t just an intimidation tactic,” he says. “You knew. You knew the Bralykburns are going to look into it and they aren’t going to find anything. Which means if they dispute the title it’s their word against yours, mine, and Bremon Kira’s. And he won’t deny it. Which means that when the Bralykburns start talking, they’ll have essentially minted a new House. A small House, yes, but a House all the same.”

 

“Lux, has anyone ever said you’d be a great detective if you got tired of being a Senator?” 

 

“Oh, I’m not finished. Because if I’m right, this is just the warm-up round. Our brand new House has two members, a man and a woman, both of whom are unmarried and have no bannermen to please, no old enemies to appease, and everything to gain from making a few alliances. I don’t think it’s a coincidence there happen to be two eligible matches right here in this room. Wouldn’t that solve your problem right away?” 

 

Dalla mentally kicks herself. Of course she should have remembered Lux was a lordling too. He thinks the same way, in families and alliances and bloodlines and above all, house politics. 

 

“It wouldn’t do for a lord or lady to marry a Beast Rider, but the members of a new house who happen to be heroes of the rebellion? That’s more than a suitable match.”  

 

Salt gods damn it. He's figured out everything. “Well, looks like great minds think alike.”

 

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me. I’m not going to try and stop you, though I’m not sure about you and Saw…” 

 

“I didn’t want you to think I was trying to push you to do the same. Because if you wanted to go down that path with Steela, a Lady’s a suitable match for you. She’s a better leader than a lot of Lords.”  

 

“That she is,” Lux smiles a little. “Ahsoka too. You haven’t seen her in action before, and let me tell you it’s a sight to behold.” His little smile grows and turns wistful, apparently remembering that sight.

 

“You love them both,” she realizes. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Lux, I’m not blind. You’re making eyes at both of them. Steela’s nothing if not obvious, and I thought Ahsoka was going to take my head off when you and I talked here last time.” 

 

“That might have had something to do with what I told her about you before you arrived.” 

 

“What could you have said, ‘Dalla is a succubus?’” She laughs. “We hadn’t even met!” 

 

Lux leans against the wall, grinning. “Oh, we were supposed to. When we were thirteen, my parents were on Onderon to petition Dendup to join the Separatist cause. And as a side trip, they told me they were going to stop at Blackhold to discuss a marriage alliance between our houses.” 

 

The shipwreck blurs most of her thirteenth year like an enormous ink blot, but she does remember her parents arguing before they left on that fateful voyage. “My parents were too, at least my mother was. She and Father were arguing a lot, behind closed doors of course so we didn’t hear. I do remember hearing your family name but I always thought it had something to do with the banner oath. We went on that voyage so my parents could have a talk with me but the storm blew in before we got the chance and my father never brought it up after.”

 

“There were never any formal talks,” Lux says. “We knew a betrothal was the last thing your family wanted to talk about after that awful wreck. But my parents did like you and your family and they said we’d try again later. But every time we thought to approach your father, something came up.”

 

“Considering my current prospects you wouldn't have been a bad match.” She laughs. “So what did you think about it?” 

 

“I was a thirteen-year-old boy. Obviously the first thing I did was search your name on the HoloNet to see if you were pretty.”

 

“And were you happy with what you saw?”

 

“The first result I got was a painting of a twenty-five-year-old supermodel looking woman so yes, I was pretty happy. Do you realize how many Dalla Blackwells there have been?”

 

“A lot. ‘Dalla’ is the most common northern girls’ name. Do you know what happened when I searched your name a few months ago to check on the banner oath?”

 

Lux winces. “Don’t remind me.”

 

She wouldn't want to be reminded of breaking up a peace conference and having to be saved by a Jedi either. “Too bad the betrothal never worked out. Then none of this would have happened.” 

 

“It wouldn't have taken,” he winks. “I've been betrothed since Carlaac.” 

 

“Whoever she is she's a lucky lady.” She has a sneaking suspicion she knows who this lucky lady is from the news reports. 

 

He changes the subject. “When are you going to ask Saw?”

 

“Tomorrow. I don't have any idea what I'm going to say.” She leans on the wall beside him when she gets an idea. “What about this? You give me some tips on how to do this, and I’ll set you up with your mysterious betrothed for a date. Deal?”

 

“As long as it's not a rowboat date, we've got a deal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and please feel free to leave a review!


	32. Caught Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been about 8 months since the terrible storm that ravaged the northern sea, but life goes on and Shara has not sat idly by. She has dived into the northern way of life and is beginning to feel at home not without some bumps along the way ~ DK

 

How could she have been so galactically stupid? Shara sat on the floor in the middle of the brand new greenhouse and looked around herself, feeling miserable. The building itself was magnificent, like a cathedral to growing things. 

 

She had spent a good deal of her own earnings on the construction project but she hadn't been the only one. Marlon and Lana had made an investment of their own funds to bring the plans to reality. And Ness's father, hoping for a share in the produce to add to his menu at the pub, had put a generous amount of credits into the mix. Even the Harkons, just to show their support for her idea, had added to the pot. 

 

They all believed in her crackpot scheme and she had let them all down. She had thought she remembered everything they would need to get started, but she had forgotten the most elemental part of the equation … dirt.

 

To be fair she had hardly sat down in the last several months. She and Jamos and the crew of the Polaris had been out on the water for almost the entire fishing season. They only came into harbor to unload the catches of fish and resupply. They had attempted to send a portion of the takings to the still suffering Bralykburn Clan but Hugo had asserted that he wouldn't take their charity. Shara suspected, though no one would say it to her face, that this had something to do with her specifically.

 

They had made a point to be at the Harkon Hall salt formation for Miranda's baptism. Marlon and Lana were named as the official godparents but Adria had told Shara that she considered she and Jamos to be just as important a part of her daughter's life as the Lord and Lady. 

 

And Shara had spent a good deal of time helping Maris plan her wedding. Not that she knew how things like that were done in the north. It was more like, at least Maris seemed to think, a dress rehearsal for her own wedding when the time for that came around.

 

Finally, yesterday, the shipment had arrived. Shara looked around at the crates of seeds and cuttings and even a Jogan sapling. She had no place to plant them. 

 

Also among the deliveries had been the fresh cut flowers that she had ordered to decorate for Maris and Ness's wedding and not a moment too soon. She and Lana had stayed up late into the night transforming the Hold’s great hall into a garden. And then Shara had gotten up early this morning to bake a special cake for the occasion. 

 

She stopped off at the greenhouse on her way back from delivering it to the pub where Ness's father was preparing for the couple's reception. This really was the first time that Shara had been able to just sit and contemplate her mistake. She wanted to cry.  

 

She heard Jamos enter, call her name, and walk across the cavernous space, Portia loping along beside him. He knelt down behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Here you are. We're going to be late. You still need to get dressed. Unless you wanted to show up for the wedding all covered in flour and soil.”

 

Shara sobbed and looked down at her hands. Some of the precious planting material had brushed off there from one of the crates. She didn't have any of the stuff to spare. Portia licked her hand in her own attempt to cheer her mistress.

 

“Oh now, don't cry.” Jamos stood and taking her hands, pulled her to her feet as well. “Believe me.” He teased. “I'm just as upset as you are that they're the ones getting married and not us.”

 

A smile tugged unbidden at the corners of her mouth and Portia barked.

 

“Aye, there we are.” He nodded, satisfied. “We'll sort all this out later. I saw the holo of the dress you picked out for today and I can't wait to see it on you.”

 

“I thought you liked me best in my fishing leathers.” She swatted him with the back of her hand as she made her way towards the door. The cog followed behind them wagging her tail.

 

“I like you in anything.” He reached ahead of her to tap the door control and it swished open with a gust of cold autumn air. It really was amazing how warm the greenhouse stayed compared to the outdoors. “Or nothing at all.” He continued with a smirk. “It really is all about variety.”

 

“Brr…” she shivered and sped up her pace, ignoring the comment. “Right now I'd like a heavier coat.” 

 

“I'll make sure it's out for you when the ceremony is over and we step back out for the reception.” He said it without a second thought, always attending to her needs before she had to ask.

 

“Thank you.” She said quietly. Shara smiled at the way Portia skipped ahead of them along the path.

 

Jamos opened the door again for her when they reached the manse. She did need to hurry. The guests were already beginning to arrive. 

 

It was here they must part for now but he took her hand and kissed it before he ran off to get dressed himself. “Don't make yourself too pretty now.” He called back. “You wouldn't want to outshine the bride.”

 

Shara waved him off and made her way to her own room. “Come on, Porsh.” She didn't have as far to bend down to ruffle the cog’s ears as she once did, since Portia had grown so much in the last year. “I'm afraid you are going to have to stay in your kennel for a bit. But don't worry, your daddy and I will bring you back something nice from the pub.”

 

Portia barked appreciatively.

 

…

 

Lots of people cried happy tears at weddings so if anyone noticed Shara shed a few of her own, they might have assumed that was the cause. Lana passed her a handkerchief, and she nodded her thanks as they watched Ness drape the cloak of protection around the shoulders of his bride. 

 

They both looked so happy.  _ Melaana and Bremon had looked at each other like that _ .

 

The minister placed their hands together and wrapped them with the silk, net, binding cloth.  _ She remembered her own hand being wrapped up with Sanjay's _ … 

 

And then they were saying their vows.  _ The same vows Shara had made… and broken _ .

 

She jumped when Dalla started gibbering from Lana's lap beside her. Shara grasped at the opportunity. “I'll take her out,” she whispered, not waiting for an answer. 

 

She felt like she could breath a little easier when she got out of that room. Perhaps Dalla wasn't really bothering anyone but to Shara she was a welcome distraction. “It's not easy to be still and quiet for the long, is it?”

 

Dalla squealed her agreement and Shara took her a little further away from the doorway into the great hall. She took a seat on a bench, stood Dalla up beside her, and proceeded to teach her goddaughter an Onderonian counting song with clapping hands and stomping feet. 

 

Before they had reached the end, there was a cheer from the hall and soon after that, guests began to make their way out. They all said how lovely the ceremony had been and how sweet the couple. A few of them who knew Shara, mostly the sailors who had served with her as well as Ness, said hello. Some of them introduced her to their families as the beast master who had saved them from the storm.  She nodded humbly, but declined their invitations to walk with them to the pub. She waited for the Blackwells. 

 

“You didn't have to…” Lana began to say as she walked up to retrieve her daughter but then she stopped. She must have seen something in the other woman's expression that yes she did  _ have to _ leave and the baby had only been a convenient excuse. She changed her tack with a considerate smile. “But thank you.”

 

“I was glad to take her.” Shara nodded and then looked back as she felt a coat being draped around her shoulders. 

 

Jamos was there, as promised, with a smile. But somebody else saw the gesture and misinterpreted.

 

“If you two are ready for the cloak and binding cloth, the minister is still in there!” 

 

Shara took an automatic step away from him.

 

Jamos looked a little disappointed but he played it off well, “Nah we wouldn't want to cut in on Ness and Maris's spotlight.” He, unhappily, followed her unspoken request and didn't reach out his hand to escort her.

 

He was uncharacteristically quiet as he walked as close as he dared behind she and Lana toward the pub. They were never more than a couple of meters apart in the packed establishment, though it seemed like parsecs.

 

“Shara.” Lana pulled her aside after the party had been going on for a while. “It's a party. You look sadder than a sacfish.” 

 

“I'm sorry. I am glad everyone is enjoying the cake.”

 

“Shara, it's understandable that it would be difficult to witness the beginning of a marriage when your own has just ended.” Her friend whispered compassionately. 

 

“Seeing Maris in her white dress,” Shara admitted. “Hearing them say their vows. I said those same words. I meant them and then I…  broke them.” She swiped away a tear from her cheek. 

 

“You're afraid to say those words again, that you might not be able to keep them?”

 

“No, it's not that exactly. Jamos is my best friend. I don't ever want that to change but…” Shara tried to think how to phrase her fears. “I don't deserve him. I gave myself to someone else, wasted years of my life that I can't get back. Why would he be interested in someone else's … leftovers?”

 

Lana took her hand and forced Shara to look her in the eye. “Have you spoken to Jamos about this?”

 

“No.” Shara shook her head.

 

“Next time you do speak to him, look him in the eye and see if you still believe that any of that matters to him.” 

 

“I…” Shara began to protest but just then Marlon came around the corner with Dalla in his arms.

 

“There you are!” He smiled at the two women. “They're just about to cast the net.”

 

Before her friend could think of reason to refuse, Lana took the toddler from her husband and passed the little girl to Shara. “Oh you will take her up for us. All the unmarried people are supposed to go forward so I can't take her.”

 

“I suppose so.” Shara looked rather blaster shy as she was shoved along with Dalla towards the center of the room where all the other young people were gathering for the traditional event. 

 

Dalla squirmed in her arms in the midst of the crowd. She slipped to the floor and had toddled off before Shara could stop her. 

 

Shara tried to follow but the press of the revelers was too much for her to see. Suddenly Jamos was standing before her. 

 

He gave her a hesitant smile. She couldn't help but look into his eyes as Lana had suggested.

 

“I was just bringing Dalla up.” She explained guiltily. 

 

“Aye.” He nodded, seemingly transfixed.

 

“She got away from me. I hope she's okay. Though I guess she's a little too young for this sort of thing anyway.”

 

“And are you?” He asked, concerned.

 

“To young?”

 

“No.” He laughed softly and then the worry returned to his gaze. “Are you okay? You looked so… I don't know… sad, earlier.”

 

“I…” she began but before she could formulate a response, a soft length of fabric descended over both of their heads like a cloud. When it settled she could still see him through the gaps in the net and the two of them were surrounded by a defining cheer. “I guess this means we've been caught up.”

 

Jamos pulled the net away from their heads and started to wad it into a ball, anticipating her displeasure. “It's just a stupid tradition.”

 

They couldn't exactly discuss it here with well wishers swarming them but she did reach out a hand and take the net from his grasp. “I don't know. I think it's kind of charming.”

 

“You do?” Hope filled his eyes for a moment before he was tackled by his brother and the groom and most of the rest of the Polaris’ crew. 

 

Shara for her part was surrounded by giggling females, all telling her how lucky she was, and how they all wished it was them, and how handsome Jamos was. She rode the chaos like a tide. Occasionally looking over the heads at Jamos's grin.

 

They all saw the bride and groom off for their honeymoon voyage aboard a small sailboat that would take them to a tiny island with a one room cabin. Then there was more drinking and dancing at the pub. But Lana and Marlon decided to call it a night and get their daughter to bed. 

 

Shara too, begged off another round, telling the others that she'd had a late night and an early morning. Her gaze barely landed on Jamos for a galactic standard second as she stepped out the door but she heard the uproar behind her when he jumped up and said he needed to hit the hay as well. She hurried along the path before he could catch up to her and give further cause for the watchers to talk. 

 

… 

  
  


Shara sat curled up on the big comfortable chair with a fur mantle wrapped around her shoulders and Portia snuggled on her lap. She had brushed the elaborate wedding style out of her hair and changed out of her fancy dress. The silk net that she had taken from Jamos at the pub was tucked carefully in the back of her drawer.

 

Despite her assertion that she was tired, she knew she wouldn't be able to get to sleep right away after the emotion and excitement. And it seemed she wasn't the only one. It was almost like any other quiet evening in front of the fire with the Blackwell family. 

 

Shara was enjoying a novel on her data pad until she glanced up and noticed Jamos gazing at her. His smile grew a little wider when they made eye contact and he gave her a wink. She felt her cheeks grow warm and she tried to focus again on the words on the screen but it was impossible.

 

Marlon and Lana seemed engrossed in their holo program and book respectfully, but it still felt a little like the early days of her time with them, when she had to be chaperoned every moment of the day. 

 

She let her gaze wander to Jamos, again. Yes, he was still looking at her. She thought he looked as if he would rather they were sitting closer together than across the room or maybe that's just what she was thinking herself.

 

On a sudden inspiration, she tapped out of the novel on her data pad and pulled up the link to a fishing gear shop that she had bookmarked. “Jamos.” Her voice broke the silence and drew the eyes of all three of the others.

 

“Aye?” He grinned.

 

She was sure she was blushing now but she pressed on hoping the others would think she was only warm from the fire. “I wanted to show you something I was considering.” She held up the datapad. She could have just forwarded him the link but he was up in a moment and across the room.

 

“Sure, what is it?”

 

Marlon and Lana, smiling, went back to their own pursuits.

 

Shara scooted over to make room for him to sit next to her. Portia didn't wake but gave a little whine in her sleep and pawed the air as if she were dreaming. Jamos gave the pup a pat and squeezed into the space on the chair.

 

“It's this wetsuit.” Shara showed him the listing. “It's synthflesh fabric, supposed to be more flexible and keep 80% more heat in than the natural leathers.”

 

“Looks great.” He said.

 

But when her attention rose from the listing to his eyes she saw that he wasn't looking at the datapad at all.

 

“You really want his opinion on ordering clothing off the holonet?” Marlon laughed from the other side of the room. Lana silenced her husband was a well placed elbow.

 

“I can get it with my share of credits from the last catch. I’ve got plenty. Just wanted to see if you thought it was a good idea.” Shara mumbled.

 

“No. Charge it to the Hold account.” Jamos said, almost offended.

 

“You're sure? It really is just so I can be more comfortable in the water.”

 

He smiled. “The comfort of my best beast master is an investment in the Blackwell fishing industry.”

 

She smiled shyly at the praise.

 

“So, that's it? All you needed to show me?” He asked, rising from the chair. He bent to ruffle Portia's ears and then looked Shara in the eyes again.

 

“Aye.” She wondered if her voice sounded as disappointed as she felt. “Yeah, that was it.”

 

He went back to his own seat and she meant to go back to her novel but instead the datapad just rested in her hand while she watched the fire burn down in the grate. And then the pad vibrated drawing her attention back to it.

 

There was a text from Jamos. “ _ Marry me _ !”

 

She studied him across the room, marveling at his expectant expression. Was Lana correct, that her past truly didn't matter to him? Shara looked back down at the pad and tried to think of a response. Finally she tapped out the message, “ _ Not yet… but… maybe. _ ”

 

He gave a whoop as soon as he had read the message, drawing the attention of his brother and sister-in-law. “Sorry,” he grinned. “Bolo-ball scores. My team won! Woo!” but he winked again at Shara and she never could quite get into her novel again that night. She read the same paragraph at least ten times.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the planning stages for this story LS and I discussed at great length how many proposals it would take for Jamos to win over his bride. This was number 4 in case you were keeping count. One was after her first catch, two was after she had decided to stay in the north, and three was in the inn after the storm. Now she has finally given him a 'maybe’.
> 
>  
> 
> Please give us a review! And as always thank you so much for reading!


	33. Flashback: For Want of a Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place four years before Dalla’s betrothal, directly after the crash that killed Lana Blackwell. Those of you who have read my other works are familiar with the fountain of love and kindness (and occasionally, raw terror) that is Mina Bonteri. She and Dane were pillars of support during Shara’s divorce, and they answer the call yet again during the Blackwells’ time of need.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Lydia, the reigning champion of belting out Disney lyrics, and my choir teacher who spent more time with her students than her own family during the Christmas season - LS

The  _ Polaris _ careens into harbor so fast Dalla’s almost certain they’re going to wreck again. But then again maybe she’s only thinking that because they’ve just been in a wreck, or because she still can’t see straight with the throbbing in her head.

 

Uncle Jamos smiles down at her and lifts her up a little more. He can still carry her even if she is thirteen years old. “Almost there, Chirn Bait. I think I can see your aunt already.” 

 

“Where?” 

 

“Don’t try to look,” he says hurriedly. “Stay where you are and we’ll be there in a minute.” 

 

“Jamos, what’s happening? Is she okay?” For once her father’s voice wavers instead of ringing. 

 

“She’s fine. I just told her we were almost home.” Jamos turns around so Marlon can see Dalla in his arms. “How are the boys?” 

 

Does he have to ask? Thias stands by Marlon’s side like a tin soldier, swallowed by a sailor’s coat. Cade’s clutching Marlon’s leg and sobbing he wants his Mom.  

 

The others start to crowd around the gangplank, those helping the wounded jockeying to the front. Jamos nearly twitches from restlessness while they dock and finally lower the gangplank. Two of his crew carry a sailor with a mangled leg down first and then he’s down like a shot, forgetting all about keeping her head still in his rush to get on dry land. 

 

As soon as they’re off the docks Jamos searches the crowd for Shara while he rushes for the Hold. “She has to be around here somewhere. Probably found your father first,” he looks around. “They’ll meet us back at the Hold.”

 

“Captain Jamos!” A heavyset woman muscles her way through the crowd. It's Maris, the pub owner who’s noticeably stopped tasting the brew. “Captain Jamos, my husband. Have you seen him?”

 

Jamos stutters with rare speechlessness but the salt gods shine down on him in the form of another woman. Shara shoves her way to Maris’ side and lays one hand on her shoulder and the other on the pubkeep’s abdomen. “I'm sure Ness is just on the ship waiting for the wounded to get off first, Maris. If you wait back with the others he can find you faster than if you’re running around. All this stress can't be good for you and your little one.”

 

Maris nods frantically and runs off to get a better view of the ship. Shara turns to Jamos. 

 

“Thank the salt gods.” She hugs him and gives him a quick kiss, careful to keep from pressing against Dalla. “How is she?” 

 

“Awake for now,” Jamos tilts Dalla so Shara can see her better. “Marlon says it was a lifeboat straight to the head.” 

 

Shara pushes Dalla’s hair from her face and tries hard to keep her expression even. “Mina and Dane are inside waiting. Where are Marlon and the boys?” 

 

“Still on the ship.” 

 

Her voice drops. “Ness?”

 

Jamos just shakes his head. Shara swallows hard and whispers the hardest one. “Lana?” 

 

He can’t move. He can’t respond, but the silence is enough of an answer. 

 

They stand frozen until a dark-haired man in a purple cloak rushes up to them and holds out his arms. “I’ll take her. Go find the rest of your family and we’ll meet you inside” 

 

Shara mouths  _ thank you  _ to the man. “Dalla, this is Dane Bonteri,” she says and gestures for Jamos to hand her over. “He’s my friend from the south and he's going to take you home. The rest of us will be over very soon.”

 

“You’re in good hands,” Dane takes her from Jamos and speedwalks toward the Hold. “I have one just about your age back home. We’re going to take good care of you.” They reach a back door and Dane momentarily blanks. “Your aunt forgot to tell me the door code.”

 

A rose-shaped pin at his collar catches the light. “Bonteri,” she mumbles. The sigil and the name finally click in her head.

 

“Your bannermen, dear.” He smiles. “But I don’t think that’s the code. We really do need to get you inside.” 

 

She rattles off the code mostly by force of habit and Dane rushes inside. Dalla almost cries out from the heat -- salt gods, she hasn't been warm for a lifetime.

 

“One more question and then you can rest,” Dane promises while her vision threatens to fade away. “Which one of these rooms is yours?” 

 

…

 

“The cold must have numbed you,” Mina Bonteri says and wrings a washcloth over a basin. “No wonder you hardly felt anything in the water.” 

 

“Do we have to do this?” Dalla winces when she blots it against her face. “Where’s my father?” 

 

“Your father is talking to your uncle,” Mina explains. “Right now Shara’s drawing a bath for your brother Thias so he can warm up. Cade is asleep with your cousins, so it’s just us for now.” She wrings out the washcloth again and rust-colored water drips away. “I think we’re almost done here.” 

 

Good. Gentle as Mina is, every touch to her swollen face hurts. “Okay.” 

 

Dane looks up from whatever he’s doing across the room. “Mina, did you give her any medications?”

 

“With a head injury like this? No.” Mina drops the washcloth in the basin and sits Dalla up. “She’s all done. Are you ready?” 

 

Warning bells go off in Dalla’s head. “Ready for what?”

 

Dane picks up his project: a tray loaded with gauze, adhesive strips, and she doesn't know what else. 

 

Mina bear hugs her from behind before she can move. “Dalla, you have broken bones and we need to set them for you. Dane was trained to do this in the militia. He’ll be very gentle, I promise.”

 

“W-what about anesthesia?” she sputters. She doesn’t see anything of the sort on Dane’s tray. 

 

“We can’t risk knocking you out with that head injury. Not with all your healers scrambling to take care of everyone else.” Dane explains, snapping on a pair of gloves. He lifts something else off his tray: Dalla’s stuffed brylk from when she was a baby. “Your aunt told me his name is Mr. Brylk. Will you hold him for me while I do this?”

 

Dalla nods and Dane places the stuffy in her hands. 

 

“Good girl.” He makes sure she has good hold on the stuffy. “Now until I’m done here, breathe through your mouth.” 

 

…

 

“What’s going on in there? What are they doing to Dalla?” 

 

“They’re just setting her nose, Marlon. She’s okay.” 

 

“Then why in the salt gods’ names is she screaming? She didn’t scream on the water.” Marlon furiously pounds on the door.  _ “Dalla!” _

 

Mina smooths Dalla’s hair while someone else, Jamos probably, wrestles Marlon away from the door. “Marlon, come back to your room.” 

 

“Why won’t you let me see my family?” Marlon pleads. “My son is in the tub so I can’t see him, my baby boy is asleep so I can’t see him, my daughter’s injured so I can’t see her and my wife --.” His voice breaks. “My Lana…” 

 

Mina starts humming into Dalla’s ear to drown out the sound of her father’s sobs while Dane finishes setting her nose. 

 

…

 

Her perpetually clean-shaven father has stubble when they finally let him into her room. That jars her more than his whirlwind entrance or poorly concealed grief. 

 

“Hello.” He does his best to smile at her and sits on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”   

 

“Okay.” She experimentally touches her swollen nose and winces. “They won’t let me sleep.” 

 

“They have to wake you every hour to check your concussion,” Marlon explains. He knits his hands in his lap. “Thias and Cade are alright. I spoke to them a few minutes ago and they’re in the living room with your uncle and Portia. If you’d like I can ask Jamos to bring her to see you.” 

 

“I don’t think the Bonteris want Portia in here slobbering over everything.” 

 

“You’re probably right,” he says and turns away, unable to meet her eyes. “Dalla, you were hurt so badly I’m not sure what you remember. D-do you understand what -- what happened to your mother?” 

 

For an answer, Dalla bursts into tears. 

 

Marlon’s facade of strength cracks only a little bit while he hugs his daughter. 

 

“The Harkons are on their way,” he manages. “All of them. Grandmother Flint, too. And we have Dane and Mina here; they said they’ll stay as long as we need.”

 

But Dalla doesn't want Dane and Mina. She doesn't want Grandmother Flint. She doesn't want Glover and Adria Harkon or their twins or even Miranda. Right now she wants the same thing every sick or injured child wants: her mother. And her mother’s not coming now or ever. 

 

Marlon says something that might be “I love you” but is too choked with emotion to be sure. 

 

He doesn't leave until she passes out again, though he starts crying before that.

 

…

 

During a few not-real hours where all the kids are asleep, Marlon staggers into the sitting room with the other adults. Jamos holds out a cup of tea and even though Marlon’s a caf person he takes it. 

 

“How is she?” Shara asks. 

 

“Asleep,” Marlon rubs his temples. “And the boys? Are they better?” 

 

“They’re asleep too.” She guides him to a chair and has him sit. “I think we’re done for the night; we just have to remember to wake Dalla every hour.” 

 

Mina raises her hand. “I’ll take care of that.” 

 

“Thank you.” Shara takes Jamos’ hand. “I should talk to all of them tomorrow. I lost my mother when I was young too.” 

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Marlon snaps. “They’re my children. It’s my job to help them --.” 

 

“Brother, you need some help yourself,” Jamos interrupts. 

 

“I’m fine!” 

 

“No one is fine at a time like this.” 

 

“Marlon, you have to be strong for your children,”  Shara urges. “And before you can do that, you need to have your own head in order. For all of your sakes. This is such an important couple of weeks. You have to show the kids you can accept help when you need it. If you let us help you, you’re showing how much you care about them. You want to be a good parent for them.” 

 

“How does that have to do with now?”

 

“My father didn’t!” Shara snaps, losing her patience for a moment. “He and I were so close, but those few weeks made all the difference for me when I grew older and when I started seeing Sanjay. You need to do this so when your sons get into trouble, or when someone like Sanjay Rash comes up to your daughter and tells her she’s pretty, they knows they can trust you with anything.”  

 

Marlon sinks back into his seat. “I’m sorry, Shara. It’s been a long week.”

 

Shara nods, the apology accepted. “The Harkons are supposed to be here tomorrow. You go with Glover and the rest of us will take care of the children.” 

 

“Alright,” he agrees. Glover Harkon never fails to have the right words to say, Ephraim and Elinor can play with Thias and Cade, and salt gods know Dalla could benefit from some time with Miranda. “Do their children know?” 

 

“Glover says he and Adria talked to them. They say Miranda is coming prepared.” 

 

When it’s Miranda they’re talking about Marlon doesn’t know what all that means, but whatever it is it’s going to be good. 

 

“We can use some of that,” he admits, just a little of his smile returning. 

 

…

 

“How’s the nose?” Mina asks Dalla the next morning after breakfast. 

 

“Okay. My mouth isn’t.” The only thing they let her eat was yogurt, and the chill makes her teeth ache. 

 

“I’ll take the next one out of the conservator earlier,” Mina says and checks the bumps on her head for the hundredth time. “Tell me again what year it is.” 

 

Dalla’s about to tell her when someone stampedes down the hall and throws the bedroom door open. 

 

Dalla smiles. She knew who it was the second the knob started turning: try as her parents might, Miranda Harkon never really mastered the fine art of knocking except on refresher doors. The joke is that’s the reason she doesn’t have any younger siblings.

 

“Hey girl!” Miranda chirps and pushes in. She manages a bag through the door and meets Dalla’s eyes. “How are you feeling?” 

 

Dalla’s smile freezes on her face, and suddenly her nose hurts very much. 

 

Miranda, even at twelve years old, is a shoo-in for the Miss North Sea pageant her mother won years ago. She’s beautiful, beautiful in the way that makes people ask Glover if he has a blaster rifle ready. Their coloring is so similar that when Miranda has her hair down, she could be Dalla’s sister. And even though Dalla’s never going to be beautiful like her, people always said she was pretty. 

 

Tears come to her eyes. She doesn’t think anyone’s going to say those things now.

 

If it was just the two of them, it would be disaster: Dalla would have burst out sobbing, Miranda would have run in and tried to take care of her and made things worse. But luckily for both of them, Mina is there. And both on the Parliament floor and off it, Mina Bonteri is a freaking miracle worker.

 

“Sorry, dear,” she says and quickly escorts Miranda out of the room. “She’s on pain medication. Can you give us a few minutes?” Once Miranda leaves she shuts the door, turns to Dalla, and wordlessly hands her a handkerchief. 

 

“Thank you,” she takes it and cleans herself up as best she can. “I’m sorry. It’s such a stupid thing to cry over --.” 

 

“Sweetie, you are thirteen. My son cried over getting jogan juice on his favorite shirt a few weeks ago. This is normal.”

 

Dalla nods, grateful to have an excuse no matter how flimsy. 

 

“It's not going to look like this forever,” Mina reads her mind. “Once the swelling goes down it’ll be almost like it was. Hold on.” She fishes around in her bag and grabs a compact. “See? It's going down already. Just give it some time.” 

 

“I can't believe this.” She wipes her eyes. “My mother is dead, my father and brothers are grieving, and I'm crying over my stupid face.”

 

Mina sits down on the bed, arms crossed. “Of course you are. It must hurt terribly, and it's your  _ face.  _ It's the first thing you see when you look in the mirror. And you are  _ thirteen years old _ . To be honest, I was a little worried you didn't cry about it until now. The young lady who just came in, is she your friend?”

 

“Miranda.”

 

“She's very pretty.” She chooses her words with a surgeon’s touch. “And so are you. My mother told me when we meet someone new the first thing we notice is their eyes, and once the swelling goes down you have eyes in spades.”

 

“It's no use,” Dalla moans. “I heard Dane talking with the healer. They say they can't straighten my nose or teeth and nothing’s ever going to look the same again. Nobody’s going to want to marry me.” 

 

“I highly doubt that.” 

 

“Why would anyone want to marry me for any other reason than to get at House Blackwell?”

 

“Because you’re a sweet girl and any family would be lucky to have you for their son. I have it on good authority that at least one person is crossing their fingers for it.” Mina hands her a second handkerchief to replace the one that's become a soaked mess. “Take a deep breath.”

 

She does.

 

“Give me a hug. You need a hug.” 

 

That instruction’s easy, because she does. Dalla opens her arms and sticks to Mina like a barnacle. 

 

Mina pats her back. “Are you ready to see your friend?”

 

“If I didn’t scare her off.” Some greeting she gave Miranda. 

 

“I’ll go get her.” Mina ducks into the hallway and returns momentarily with Miranda, who’s now significantly calmer, on her heels. 

 

Miranda half-smiles. “Pain meds are the worst, right?”  

 

“I guess.” Dalla scoots over so Miranda can fit on one side of the bed. 

 

“Fear not,” Miranda continues and gestures to her bag. “I came prepared.” With that she upends the bag onto the foot of the bed, spilling its contents everywhere: two bottles of brightly colored nail polish, hair elastics, a deck of cards, and an ungodly number of holodisks. 

 

Dalla grabs one and reads the label. Just as she suspected: it’s Miranda’s favorite holoshow, a musical comedy about a secondary school show choir. “You didn’t.” 

 

“Aye, I did,” Miranda says and pops a disk into her portable holoprojector. “We’re bingeing the entire series.” 

 

Mina raises an eyebrow. “What show is this?” 

 

“It’s a musical, Senator Bonteri,” Miranda says with her best innocent smile. “I’m sure you’re going to love it.” 

 

…

 

“Miranda, can we  _ please  _ fast forward through the recaps? We already know what happened on the last episode.” 

 

Miranda looks up from her current task of painting Dalla’s nails bright pink. “Girl, I’m painting your nails. The least you can do is give me my recaps.” 

 

“I painted your nails during the last episode.” 

 

“You painted my fingernails. I’m painting your toenails. That’s worth a little extra.” 

 

Dalla sticks her tongue out at Miranda and fast forwards through the recaps anyway. 

 

“You’re going too far!” Miranda protests. “You’re going to skip the part with Notluiski Papanoida! That part always makes you happy.” 

 

“Ladies?” 

 

The girls look over to Mina, who’s currently playing solitaire with the dedication of a true fan or someone trying to keep from going insane. 

 

“If I have to hear Notluiski Papanoida sing a showtune, I might just go crazy,” she says, still placidly playing cards. 

 

Dalla looks to Miranda. “Uh, ‘Randa? I think it might be a good time to put in that holo about the pink Zeltron who goes to law school.” 

 

Miranda nods and abandons Dalla’s nails in favor of switching out the holodisks. “Thank salt gods I stole this out of Elinor’s room.”

 

Mina pulls her chair up to the head of the bed. “This looks better already.” 

 

Dalla doesn’t stay awake for much of the holo, despite it being one of her favorites. She nods off sometime when the Zeltron heads off to law school in her signature pink and comes around during the climactic trial scene. 

 

“Is she waking up?” Miranda whispers, looking away from the holo. 

 

“Let her sleep,” Mina croons and readjusts Dalla’s blankets. “She’s had a long day.” 

 

…

 

Mina Bonteri wouldn't be surprised if none of the Blackwell children remember their mother’s funeral. With Lana Blackwell’s body lost at sea, already given back to the salt gods, her family members each take a corner of an empty shroud and heave it over the rail and into the sea. 

 

“We asked for Lana and she was given,” Marlon says. “You led her to House Blackwell, where for fifteen years she was my loving wife and the mother to our three children.”  He composes himself. “She lived her life in the light of the salt gods, and we ask you welcome her home to your halls to live out all of eternity.” 

 

He nods to his children, who each press a thumb to their lips and extend their hands, palm facing outward. 

 

“In the light of the salt gods,” they all say. 

 

“In the light of the salt gods,” the rest of the ship repeats.

 

The crew turns away from the salt formation and sails them back to the Hold. While they walk down the gangplank Mina comes up to Shara and takes her free hand. “That was a beautiful service.”

 

“It was,” Shara reaches around her back to snag Emoth before he can run off. “The children seem to be handling it all right.”

 

“It's the older boy I'm worried about, Thias.” Mina looks over her shoulder to check on the children. “Dane says he's barely said a word.”

 

“Ephraim took him into the bay to go sport fishing and he seemed okay then,” Shara replies and tries to grab another child. “Jamos, can you please --?”

 

Jamos nods and swoops little Arkon onto his shoulders to free up another hand so he can grab Emoth and Cornel. “Come on, kids. We’re going back inside.”

 

Shara looks around for her eldest but he’s well in hand, following Dane around like a second shadow and talking a mile a minute. (“I'm a Dane too! Well actually I'm  _ Kason  _ Dane, but still!”) As the rest of her family runs ahead she and Mina go in a side door. 

 

“It's not like Thias to be so quiet,” she worries. “He's usually so loud and lively; he's never like this! I’ll have to ask Lana about it, she --.” Shara stops cold.

 

Mina places a hand on her shoulder while Shara’s face crumbles.

 

“Why don't we have a talk?” She suggests and shoves open the nearest door to give them some privacy. 

 

Shara sobs as soon as the door shuts. “I can't believe this is happening! Ever since Melaana...I never thought I would have a friend I could trust but as soon as she said hello I knew I could tell her anything. During the whole divorce mess she was right by my side, you saw that. She was my best friend! When I married Jamos she was so excited to be my sister she cried. We were pregnant with Emoth and Cade together, we raised our children together. She was like my other half and now she's gone and I don't know what to do.”

 

Mina knows where to start. “The first thing you’re going to do is take a very deep breath.” Shara takes two. “Shara, I know I can't possibly understand what you’re going through. But I know it's going to get better. You have Jamos and your children and your brother in-law and Dane and I; all of us will stand with you during this.”

 

Shara sniffs. 

 

“I didn't know Lana long, but you both stayed in my home during your divorce. While you took care of your business Lana and I spent a lot of time together. She missed her baby girl and liked to hold little Lux. We talked all the time and if the galaxy can use more of anything, it can definitely use more Lana.”

 

“More Melaana, too.”

 

“Oh, those two are probably talking up a storm now.” She smiles just thinking of Lana and Melaana being friends. 

 

Shara laughs humorlessly. “May the force be with everyone else there.” 

 

_ May the force be with all of us here,  _ Mina thinks and gives Shara a hug from her seemingly endless supply. She doesn’t have to be a psychologist to know Lana was the tower of support in this family, and now that she’s gone the Blackwells are going to have a hole as ever-present as their daughter’s scarred face. 

 

At least for a while. Shara’s strong as they come; Mina’s sure she can pull herself and her family through in one piece. And as long as she’s spent with Dalla, Mina’s drawn one conclusion: that girl is her mother’s daughter, through and through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and don't hesitate to leave a review! DuchessKenobi and I would absolutely love them.


	34. How I Met Your Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had a reputation for being a bit of a rogue, the famous dalgos rider. He did the most impressive tricks and raced faster than anyone in the history of the fetes of the beast riders. He also had the notoriety of racing away with the women’s hearts. Although he really was rather shy. His heart only ever belonged to the fruit merchant’s daughter. ~ DK

Shara remembered sitting here at the bar a year ago on the first night of salt and light. “So there wasn't anything from a holonet retailer called  _ Harbor Wears _ ?”

 

Maris shook her head, thinking. “Seems like I do remember seein’ a package with your name on it, but Lana came down and picked up everything that was delivered here for the Hold yesterday.” 

 

“She didn't tell me about anything…”

 

Maris's eyes opened wide. “Maybe I wasn't supposed to mention it!”

 

Shara smiled. “I won't tell her you told me. Anyway I couldn't have used the new wetsuit till the thaw. Though they are taking their sweet time about it. That's not why I came in anyway.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a, still warm from the oven, pie. “Happy salt and light!”

 

“It smells amazing!”

 

“It'll be even better with some of that  _ Blu Whip _ that your father-in-law likes to spray on the caff. We didn't get any fruits from the greenhouse yet but we did get one big squash. It was big enough that I got two pies out of it.” 

 

“Aww, thanks, Shara, for thinkin’ of us,” said Maris.

 

“Oh but,” Shara suddenly worried. “Maybe you shouldn't. If you think you might be… One of the herbs I used has been known to cause problems with unborn…”

 

“You don't have to worry about that.” Maris blushed before she could go on. And then said in a whisper even though the bar was empty. “I got the hypo. Ness and I agreed we'd wait a bit before we start trying for a little one.”

 

Shara must have looked confused. She'd never really considered such a thing. She knew that  _ she _ was the reason her own parents had married and the main reason she had married Sanjay was to produce an heir.

 

“You don't think there's somethin’ wrong with that, do you?” Maris asked defensively.

 

“No.” Shara hurried to assure her. “Just being the two of you, without all that pressure? It sounds… nice.” 

 

She might have to discuss this with Jamos, if she could work up the nerve. She still hadn't talked to him about what he thought of her past, like Lana had suggested a couple of months ago at Maris's wedding.

 

…

 

She was so busy examining the beautifully arranged shells on the cover of the sailors’ valentine Jamos had given her that Shara hadn't even realized there was still another present left to open. He must have been paying attention to how much she admired Lana's collection of the octagon shaped boxes. Shara knew just what she wanted to keep inside it: the silk net binding cloth that was a reminder of her being caught up with Jamos.

 

“This last one wasn't really meant to be a salt and light gift…” Lana’s voice drew Shara back to the present. “But it arrived just in time so I commed Edda and asked if she minded if I saved it to give it to you tonight. She said that would be alright, and she wants to hear from you some time.”

 

“This is from Edda?” Shara reached out to take the box from Lana. It wasn't wrapped in the bright colored paper like the other gifts. It was just the plain brown flimsy of a shipping package. “How sweet of her to think of me.”

 

“What is it?”Jamos asked, sliding closer to her on the couch to see.

 

“Looks like a journal of some kind.” She shrugged as surprised as any of them. “I didn't know anybody but Melaana kept one of these anymore.”

 

“Whose is it?” Marlon asked.

 

Lana smiled. “Or does she expect you to have enough adventures to keep one of your own?”

 

“Already had a few adventures, haven't we?” Jamos winked at her.

 

“It came with a note.” Shara held it up and then scanned it wistfully before she read it aloud. “She says,  _ 'I finally got the chance to go through the last of the boxes from your father’s house and I came upon this journal that belonged to your mother _ .’ It was my mother's!”

 

She looked around at them all with pure joy. Then she swallowed and went back to the note. “' _ I must apologize for the scribbles inside the front cover. Bremon has been teaching Saw to write runes and he left his pens out where his little sister could reach them. You'll just have to count that as Steela's addition to the original. And Saw wanted to show you what he's been learning as well _ ’.”

 

Shara held out the note so they could see the carefully penned runes that ran across the bottom of the page from right to left that spelled out, “Sawyer Drokko Gerrera.”

 

“Oh that's sweet.” Lana gushed. “I never learned the runes as well as I should. I hope you'll help me teach Dalla when she's old enough.”

 

“Of course I will.” Shara nodded and opened the book. It was just written in plain Aurebesh and the pages weren't nearly as full as she would have liked, but she knew she would treasure every word. It had been a long time but she still recognized the extra little swirls that denoted her mother's original handwriting. 

 

She flipped through the pages. Hadassa Cornel Rupingwood hadn't been as consistent with her writing as Mel had always been.

 

“Will you read it to us?” Jamos asked. “I'd like to hear more about your mother. I'm sure we all would.”

 

Marlon and Lana both agreed.

 

“Looks like she didn't write down everything. I'll have to fill in from the stories my father told me and things I've guessed about her. Although my mother was a bit of a nexu when she was young so there are bits of it that probably won't be appropriate for Dalla to hear.”

 

The one and a half year old looked up at the sound of her name, “Dalla hear!” 

 

“Aye, you hear everything, don't you?” Her mother scooped her up from her pile of presents. “And you repeat everything too. It's time for you to go to bed.”

 

The little girl pouted and let loose with a howl of indignation. 

 

“Awww Chirn Bait, you've gotta get your rest.” Jamos encouraged her. “You wanna go swimming in the hot spring tomorrow for water night with me and Aunt Shara?” He winked back over his shoulder. He'd been calling her that lately, maybe trying to get Dalla used to the moniker. 

 

“JaJa an’ Sasa swim!”

 

“That's right! So off to bed with you.”

 

It still took some doing to get her in PJs, a story, a song, a cup of water, but finally the adults were alone and ready for Shara to begin her tale.

 

…

 

She was the reckless one. When she was supposed to be working the fruit stand at the fete, she would have much rather run around with friends and see the events. But that required avoiding her cousin Grigori who had been sent out to look for her and one rather amorous admirer. 

 

In her flight, Hadassa ducked into a tent. She has no idea who it belonged to, but she noticed, as she surveyed her surroundings, that it was set up with sort of a barn stall on one side and a sleeping space for a rider on the other. 

 

The side reserved for the dalgos was in perfect order, with clean, fresh straw, blankets and brushes laid out neatly. Every comfort was accounted for, with no expense spared for the animal. 

 

The other side was a complete mess. Pieces of riding costumes were strewn everywhere, along with discarded racing numbers and junk food wrappers.   
  
Hadassa had nearly guessed who the tent might belong to when she heard a commotion outside. Girls voices were talking and giggling. Then she heard a dalgo's snort and a male voice telling them that he couldn't possibly go with them because Castor needed a brush and a rest before the big race. Finally they seemed to break up and wander away disappointedly. 

 

Kason Rupingwood pushed the tent flap open and lead the dalgos in. He didn't even see her at first, being so focused on caring for his mount and complimenting Castor's performance.   
  
“That's right, Boy!” The rider crooned. “You were magnificent! And we got away from that gaggle of girls, didn't we?”   
  
Hadassa cleared her throat to get his attention. “It seems you weren't entirely successful there.”   
  
Kason jumped but covered his surprise with a grin. “No, it would appear that one of them caught up with us.”   
  
“Well I wouldn't go so far as to say that I was one of them. I was evading my own pursuers when I found myself here.” She admitted.   
  
Kason went back to brushing the dalgo nonchalantly, “Oh? And what were you running from then?”   
  
Hadassa frowned. “My father for one. Would you believe he wants me to work a fruit stand on this beautiful day and miss all the festivities?”   
  
“That is tragic.” He offered. “So you managed to get away to see the trick riding exhibition?”   
  
“No,” she was honestly disappointed. “I was trying get away from that so called artist, Balthazar.”   
  
Kason looked at her more critically. “He wants to paint you?” He turned back to the dalgo with a smirk. “I'd buy a painting of you.”   
  
“He wants me to pose with no clothes on.” She said dryly meaning to shock him.   
  
He only shrugged, though she thought she might have caught a blush rise in his complexion. “I'd pay extra for that.”

 

Hadassa called his bet and raised the stakes. “Well what if I wasn't really running away from him? What if I was just looking for a place where I could do my modeling more discreetly?”

 

Kason looked around the tent. “Not much of an artist's studio but if you wanted to keep away from prying eyes…”

 

“You mean you wouldn't mind if I told Balthazar to meet me here, tonight?”  _ She was joking, wasn't she? _

 

He smiled at her. “You think I would say no to having a beautiful, naked girl in my tent and stifle the cause of great art?” 

 

Hadassa wasn't going to back down now. “Alright. I'll tell him I'll be here tonight after the race.”

 

“Not during the race, while everyone is down at the track?” He asked.

 

She shrugged, not looking at him. “Well, I didn't get to see the famous Castor at the trick riding exhibition. I wouldn't want to miss seeing him perform again.”  _ Not to mention Castor's famous rider, _ “And besides I think it might be a good idea to have an objective witness here while Balthazar is working, just to make sure he doesn't try anything funny.”

 

“I could be objective.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “...and you'd better believe I'm not going to let him try anything.”

 

Hadassa decided. “Alright. So I guess I should put in some time at the fruit stand so father will let me off for the race and … after.”

 

Kason nodded.

 

She approached the animal and rider and reached out to pet Castor before she left the tent.

 

“Wait! You might not want to!” Kason started to stop her. “He can be kind of shy of strangers.”

 

Hadassa took a jogan out of a pocket in her skirt and offered it to the dalgo before stroking his muzzle. “Good luck at the race tonight,Boy.”

 

Kason smirked. “Are you going to wish me luck tonight too?”

 

She smiled coyly back at  him. “Does the great Kason Rupingwood need my wishes to get lucky?”

 

“Your consent perhaps?” He looked as if he would like to kiss her right then but restrained himself. “And your name? I don't even know who you are.”

 

“Hadassa Cornel, daughter of the fruit merchant.” With a sigh she made her way to the tent flap.

 

“Hadassa.” He repeated the name as if it was a line of music.

 

“Till tonight, then?” _ Dxun! What has she gotten herself into? _

 

“Till tonight.”

 

…

 

Hadassa sucked down great gulps of air as soon as she had left the tent. She felt as if she had been holding her breath for the entire conversation with the rider. But she didn't have much time to collect herself before one of her pursuers caught up with her.

 

“Ah, there is the loveliest lady at the fete.” Balthazar took her hand and kissed her cheek before she could stop him. “Please tell me that you have reconsidered my offer and you will consent to be my model for my next great work of art.” 

 

She didn't think he really expected her to but she surprised him. “Actually I have.”

 

“You- you have?”

 

“Yes.” She sped on before she lost her nerve. “If you would care to meet me here.” She gestured at the tent behind her. “Tonight after the dalgos race, I would be honored to model for one of your paintings.” 

 

“Oh, beautiful Hadassa! You don't know how happy this makes me!” He impetuously kissed her cheek again before he started to run off, calling back to her, “so little time to get all of my tools prepared!”

 

“You're not really gonna let him paint you?” Hadassa turned to see the wide-eyed boy of twelve who had uttered the question in disbelief. It was her little cousin Grigori. And he wasn't so little anymore, she realized. He had shot up several inches this summer and was nearly as tall as she was.

 

He could make trouble if he told her father about her plans. 

 

“What?” She strode towards the courtyard where the food merchants had set up their trade. “You mean am I going to let him take a brush and apply color to my skin? No, of course not.” She laughed. “He won't even touch me. He'll be on the other side of the room behind his easel.”

 

“But he'll be  _ looking _ at you. I've seen the way he looks at you.” The poor boy seemed honestly concerned.

 

“Grigori, he's an artist. They look at things. It's how they create their art. And you don't have to worry because I'm going to have a friend there the whole time making sure all he does is look.”

 

He still looked unsure. “Do you swear?”

 

“Dxun drexls take me for a liar.” She crossed her heart.

 

Grigori Tandin, keeper of the straight and narrow, nodded grudgingly.

 

“Now Grig, you've got to promise me you won't tell mother and father about this.”

 

“What? If there's nothing wrong with it, why can't you tell them about it?” 

 

She was afraid she'd lost him, so she thought fast. “Well, that's just it. What if this painting turns out to be really great and I want to give it to them as a gift? I would want that to be a surprise, right?”

 

“Yyyeah.” He stretched out the affirmative.

 

“And I'll make you a fruit cake!”

 

“Yeah, alright.” He smiled.

 

“Thanks, Grig! I'll never forget this!” She hugged him and raced off to her family's fruit stand to put in her time.

 

… 

 

“I don't have to be completely naked in the painting?” Hadassa called out from behind the curtain that had been hung up to give the model a measure of privacy while she undressed. Not that it would matter much when she stepped out from behind it and revealed herself to the two pairs of waiting eyes. (three if she counted Castor)

 

“Not if you don't wish to.” Balthazar’s voice answered. “I want you to feel perfectly comfortable.”

 

She was beginning to have second thoughts. It was one thing to expose herself to these two men for a few minutes but the idea that her image would be forever fixed on canvas in oils and pigment was a little more daunting. She grabbed up a piece of white cloth from the floor. It appeared to be one of Kason's discarded shirts. Then she took a deep breath and self-consciously left her hiding place.

 

She glanced at the painter but he seemed preoccupied with preparing his palate. So her gaze turned to Kason. She expected him to be smiling, mocking her, but instead he looked nearly as nervous as she felt. And he kept shooting angry glances over at Balthazar behind his easel.

 

Finally the artist noticed her and motioned towards a vase of tall flowers. “Ah here you are. Just stand there please.” 

 

Hadassa went to stand where she was told, in profile to Balthazar. With one arm covering her breast and the other holding the shirt so that it hung in front of everything else important, she felt decently shielded from his point of view. 

 

The other gentleman in the room, however was nearly directly in front of her. To him she was almost completely exposed. She wondered if he knew it was his shirt she was using as a covering. He must. She couldn't look him in the eye and dropped her gaze to the floor.

 

“Beautiful.” Said Balthazar, but not as if he meant anything by it. “Just stay where you are.” He held up one hand to remind her to hold that position and began sketching furiously with the other. 

 

Soon he had switched from pencil to paint and brush. And then almost before Hadassa believed he could possibly be finished he made one more swipe with his instrument and laid it down in the tray. “There!”

 

“It's about kriffing time.” Kason got up from his seat, but before he went to see how the painting had turned out, he went to Hadassa and hurriedly took the shirt from her hand and helped her to put it on. He was as gentle as she had seen him be earlier that day when he was caring for his dalgo. “You looked cold,” he said quietly.

 

“Did I?” She asked.

 

“Yes. You've got nunabumps.”

 

“Do I?”

 

Before he could answer Balthazar called them both over to survey his masterpiece.

 

“Is that really me?” Hadassa stared disbelieving at the girl on the canvas.

 

“Most beautiful girl at the fete!” The painter repeated his previous assertion. But he wasn't looking at her anymore, he seemed to have fallen in love with the work of his own hands. 

 

Kason grunted. “Well, you're done. You can gather your things and clear out.” 

 

Hadassa looked at him, shocked by the outburst. 

 

Balthazar, however didn't seem to have noticed. “You are quite right. I have taken up enough of your time.” He had already started packing up his things, wiping off brushes and closing tubes of paint. 

 

Kason was impatient for the other man to go but Hadassa, pulling the shirt tighter around herself with one hand, thought she should say something. “Thank you, Balthazar for…”

 

“Oh no, thank you, my dear!” He took her free hand. “You were a brilliant model.” He started to lean in to kiss her cheek as he had done before. 

 

Kason threw an arm out before he could make contact. “Alright, enough of that.” He had promised to make sure that the artist didn't try anything. He watched Balthazar with a ruping’s stare until every last artist's tool was packed away and the painter picked up his canvas and easel and said his goodbyes. 

 

Hadassa could have gone and gotten dressed while this was going on but she was almost afraid that Kason might throw a punch if the other man wasn't moving fast enough. And as soon as he was gone the rider turned to her with a guilty expression. 

 

“Are you alright?” He asked as if she had just come through some great ordeal. 

 

“Yes, of course.” She shook her head not understanding.

 

Kason reached out and touched her face gently. “I’ve half a mind to go out there and stop him and take that painting and burn it.”

 

“You didn't like it?” She covered his hand with her own. His felt cool against the blush of her cheek.

 

“It was beautiful… just like you.”

 

Her heart hammered in her chest. 

 

“I just… I never want to share that image of you with anyone ever again. Hadassa, I…” His lips met hers with a desperate urgency. And she was swept away in the passion of his embrace.

 

… 

 

She couldn't be sure if it had happened that night or the next or the night after that. Hadassa had sneaked out of her family's tent every evening of the fete after the night of the painting to be with Kason. And then on the last day, they had said their goodbyes. 

 

“Only for a little while.” He had promised. It was a contracted tour. The riding circuit wouldn't wait. But Kason had promised, “As soon as the last show is over, I will come back for you.” 

 

He was earning good credits, riding. He'd be able to show her parents that he was capable of supporting the two of them and, and… 

 

Her father and mother told her that he’d never stick around. He was as wild and untamed and dangerous as his mounts. They were sure it was only a phase she was going through when she watched the holos of him with such love in her eyes. 

 

She was still trying to think of a creative way to tell him. None of the holo greetings she'd seen so far put it in quite the right words. 

 

She was looking for…  _ oh, I don't know _ … something about a daddy dalgo? Or maybe she could record herself singing the song  _ Child Loves His Father _ ? But what if she was having a girl? Would that matter?

 

Hadassa found herself humming the song at odd moments. Maybe that's how her mother first realized.

 

However it was they found out, her parents didn’t want the dalgos rider anywhere near the baby. If they had their way he would have never even been told that Hadassa was carrying his child. They confiscated her personal comm unit and forbade her from contacting him. Not that something like that had ever been much of a deterrent before.

 

“Kason.” He wasn't answering his comm. Maybe he was in hyperspace somewhere or maybe her parents were right and he really had moved on. She couldn't believe that so she went on with the recording. “I had to sneak away. They didn't want me to tell you but you have the right to know. I didn't want to tell you like this. I wanted it to be a happy moment we'd always remember because, well, I'm pregnant.” 

 

Tears sprang to her eyes but she didn't want him to see. She stopped the recording to collect herself and then resumed. “I don't want you to feel obligated. If you can't, if you don't want…” she swallowed back a sob and blinked her eyes several times. “What I'm trying to say is that we'll be taken care of. Mother and father have arranged for me to marry a widower. He has other children, fourteen I believe.”

 

She made an attempt to laugh it off. “Flints. What can I say? He says he doesn't mind that I'm having one of my own. In fact he was rather glad that he might be able to stop paying for a wet nurse for his youngest when I can…” here she couldn't help but break into a sob as hard as she was trying not to. “So you see, I… we’ll…” She ended the recording and sent it before she could think twice.

 

…

 

Shara stopped reading. She flipped back a few pages and then returned to the page where she had been. “Oh.”

 

“Is that all there is?” Lana asked, sitting figuratively and literally on the edge of her seat.

 

“No there's…” Shara looked around at each of them and then, her own eyes shining with tears, her gaze returned to the page. “She wrote a letter to her baby.” 

 

Shara read the words silently to herself and then closed the book. She didn't feel like she could share something so precious.

 

It was Jamos who finally spoke up. “She wanted you to know who your real father was some day, in case she was forced to marry that Flint?”

 

Shara nodded.

 

“But you did know him.” Marlon observed. “Things worked out for the two of them after all?”

 

“Aye.” She beamed, shedding a few happy tears. “He dropped everything, the tour, his whole career. He showed up at my grandparents’ door and begged them to let him marry her. He said he'd do anything for her and the child… me.”

 

“How romantic.” Lana smiled.

 

Shara laughed. “It wasn't all sunshine and roses. My grandfather expected him to earn his keep and learn the family business. Once he made up his mind to, my father worked hard everyday of his life to prove himself worthy of my mother.”

 

Jamos caught her eye and Shara could almost see him asking what he must do to be worthy of her. She looked away with a sigh. “And then the sickness came,” she continued with the story. “My father was immune somehow but he could guess how bad it was going to be. He wanted to take Mother and I north before the quarantine was set up but then my grandparents got sick and she wouldn't leave them. It was the only time they ever argued.”

 

Shara looked down at her hands wondering if she should tell them. Down south there was such a stigma for those who had suffered the Dalgos Flu but maybe they didn't know. She decided it was best just to be honest. “And then I got sick.” She hurried on. “Father wouldn't leave my side. He hardly noticed when they brought him word that my grandparents had died and my mother was taking the last lonely walk behind their coffins. She came home after it was over and he was so happy to tell her that my fever had broken and she… she smiled for a moment before she… collapsed. He barely caught her before she hit the floor.”

 

Shara looked down and realized that Jamos was holding her hand. She looked him right in the eyes as she told the rest. “She was in and out of consciousness for a week, always asking about me when ever she was awake enough, and apologizing that she hadn't gone North with him when he suggested it. As I got better she got worse. And I remember waking up one morning feeling fine and I got out of bed and I asked him, 'Today, Father, can we go for a ride?’ It had been so long since I had been on a dalgos. But he was crying and he said, ‘No, Sweetheart, today we're going to go for a walk’.”

 

Jamos pulled her into his arms and let her cry. When her sobs subsided he guided her to her feet and without a word, led her to her bedroom. The alarm on her door had long ago been disabled. 

 

“That's her.” He said in a reverent whisper, nodding at the painting that was hanging on her wall.

 

“Aye.” Shara nodded, resting against him. “Do you think she can see? Do you think she knows that I'm… happy here…”  _ with you _ ?

 

“Aye, she knows.” He turned her to face him and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He looked as if he wanted to speak. Maybe he wanted to ask her again. Maybe he thought it wasn't the right time. Maybe he was afraid she still wasn't ready. Maybe in that moment she would have said yes…

 

Instead he kissed her forehead. “She knows.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of notes about Shara's bittersweet flashback:
> 
>  
> 
> First a fun fact: One of those fourteen Flint children who would have been Shara's step brother, grew up and got married and had a family of his own. He named his third daughter, Werda. Little does the Werda Flint of "Some Say I Got Devil" know how close she came to having an Aunt Shara.
> 
>  
> 
> And B: the paintings described in this chapter are based on actual works of art by a painter named Robert Coombs. The painting of Shara and her mother is titled, 'Safety’. I'm not sure of the title of Hadassa's more risqué modeling endeavor (which is still tasteful as far as art goes) if you care to Google them. The works of Robert Coombs and another American Figurative painter named Daniel Gerhartz have been inspirational in how both LS and I imagine the look of Shara and several other of the characters from this story.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and please drop us a review or comment or check out the forum for lots more fun info about the characters and setting of Polaris!


	35. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the Clone Wars, it’s time for Dalla to put her plan into action. -LS

 

Dalla starts counting when Saw drags himself into the kitchen to drink his morning caf. That was the first tip Lux gave her: Saw’s grumpier than anything until he’s had caf. Wait until he’s halfway done and then the kitchen will still be empty and Saw will be caffeinated enough to speak in complete sentences. 

 

She uses her few minutes to run over the rest of Lux’s tips in her head. Don’t beat around the bush. Don’t get sappy. Be honest, remind him of the benefits, and keep calm no matter what. 

 

Keep calm. _ Right _ . 

 

Ten minutes after she first smells caf, Dalla heads for the kitchen. 

 

“Hey, Saw.” she says and knocks on the door frame. 

 

“Hey.” Saw raises his caf mug, three-quarters of the way empty. “Want some caf?” 

 

“No thanks.” Her hands are already threatening to shake; the last thing she needs is caffeine. “I actually wanted to ask you something.” 

 

“Shoot.” Saw takes another sip of caf. 

 

Dalla grips the counter and spits it out. “Will you marry me?” 

 

Saw’s mug freezes at his lips and then he lowers it, laughing. “You know, I wasn’t sure about bringing you in at first, but I like you. You’re funny!” 

 

He thinks she’s joking. Of  _ course  _ he thinks she’s joking. But Dalla’s so shocked she can’t explain. She just stares at him and his caf mug with her hands still clenched around the counter.

 

Saw stares back until realization hits and his smile disappears. “You aren’t joking.” 

 

She shakes her head and Saw puts his mug on the counter before leaning against it himself. “Oh man, oh man…”

 

She shuts the kitchen door. “Are you okay?” 

 

“What?” He realizes what she’s saying. “Why wouldn’t I be? I woke up, got dressed, got my caf, got proposed to in the kitchen. Normal morning routine.”

 

“You look like you’re going to pass out.”   

 

Saw doesn't respond to that. “Uh, do you want to sit down or something?”

 

“I'm good, but I really think you should.”

 

Saw hoists himself to sit on the counter and exhales. 

 

“I was not expecting that.” He says. 

 

That's pretty obvious. “Do you want me to --?”

 

“No.” He grabs his caf mug, downs the rest of its contents like a shot, and then refills it. “I am not caffeinated enough for this.”

 

She waits for him to chug before she speaks. “Are you caffeinated enough now?” 

 

“No, but if you don’t go now it’s never going to happen.” 

 

Right. The benefits. “I’m my father’s heir. If we get married, you’d have a command position in the navy.” Best to start with the military option. Saw’s the military type. “You got the hang of rowing pretty quick and you led everyone until Steela was elected; I don’t think you would have any problems captaining a ship. There’s credits abound in the fishing industry so you’d never have to worry about money. The Hold’s not exactly a shack either. I mean it’s not the Royal Palace, but it’s a close second. You’d get to live there, with a lord’s title and the entire north to rule with me. Authority, prestige, my eternal gratitude, any dowry you ask, it would all be yours. We both have a sibling here to act as witness; we could do the ceremony right now if you want.” 

 

Saw looks into the caf mug. “Can you stop talking about it like it’s a business transaction?”    

 

Dalla stops. “What did I say?” 

 

“It’s like you’re trying to hire me.” He puts the mug down. “You’re going over all the perks, but you’re ignoring the part about us being  _ married.  _ That’s so much more than a naval position and a place up north. That’s being with each other for the rest of our lives. The rest of my life is a long time! And to be honest, I think a week isn’t a lot of time to decide if you can be together that long. My parents courted for almost a year.” 

 

Hers didn’t court at all before they were betrothed, but her father with the assistance of Glover Harkon, the alias “Nolram”, and some slightly dubious spying helped them to fall in love. “Most of the married people I know didn’t court much at all. From what I’ve learned, what comes before the marriage doesn’t really matter. It’s how you look at it and communicate and more often than not, that leads to a good marriage. My parents loved each other. My best friend’s parents loved each other, and they’d only met once before they got married.” 

 

“Please be honest with me.” Saw slides off the counter so they’re both standing. “Do you love me?” 

 

She pauses to weigh her answer. 

 

“I don’t love you,” she admits. “I don’t feel warm inside when we talk, or think about what could have happened on that rowboat, or try to do little things to make you happy all the time. But I do like you. I like how you’ll go to the ends of the earth to get the job done. I like how you don’t let anyone change the way you see the universe. I like how you aren’t afraid of a joke during serious times. I like you, Saw. I like you very much.” 

 

“Thank the gods.” 

 

“Thank the gods for what?” 

 

“That you don’t love me, because I don’t love you. You’re nice, but I don't love you.”

 

That’s...nice. At least they’re on the same page. “I guess that makes things less complicated.” 

 

“It does,” Saw agrees. “My parents loved each other and after seeing that...look it's nothing against you but I can't marry someone I don't love and who doesn't love me.”

 

And with that, Dalla’s plan tanks. Marrying Saw was the only surefire way to end the nightmare with Rash. 

 

“I understand.” And she does. “I can’t say it’s the answer I was hoping for, but I understand.” 

 

“Just a question. If things were different, if this whole mess with Rash wasn’t happening, would you still have proposed?” 

 

It’s a flicker of hope and Dalla grabs onto it quick. “No, but only because I would already be married to someone else. And I’d be disappointed I missed out. You would be a good husband. You treat Steela like a queen, and that’s a reliable sign you would be kind to your wife too.” 

 

“If I wasn’t my father would probably rise from the dead just to dress me down,” Saw takes another gulp of caf. “He always said that if I got married I was going to treat my wife like she was the queen of the entire planet. When I was little they even had a prospect picked out.” 

 

“They did?” 

 

“Uncle Brem’s baby. I asked if I could have a starship as my betrothal gift and he laughed.” 

 

“That’s one heck of a betrothal gift.” 

 

“Most high lords don't get gifts like that,” he smiles to himself. “Of course, it took a while for me to realize I'd be the one giving the gift, not getting it.”

 

“Who knows? You just got proposed to. What's saying you won't get a betrothal gift.” But it's not going to be a gift from her. “Well, thank you for listening. And not continuing to laugh at me.”

 

“I swear, I thought someone was pranking me. If I'd known you were serious -- oh gods, that's awful. Laughing at a marriage proposal. You probably think I'm an ass.” 

 

Dalla shrugs. “All apologies will be accepted.”

 

“I'm sorry.” He looks like he wants the floor to swallow him. “Really, I'm sorry. Please don't tell Steela.  _ Oh my gods.  _ I can't believe I did that.”

 

“If you pour me some of that caf I might forgive you.” Now that her adrenaline’s gone she feeling the effects of staying up half the night refining her shoddy proposal with Lux. 

 

Saw grabs a mug from the cupboard and pours. Dalla accepts the mug, blows on it, and takes a sip. 

 

“It’s really bad,” he explains. “But it’s caffeine.” 

 

She shrugs. “It’s better than caf tablets.” 

 

Saw looks at the chronometer, displaying a time twenty minutes since he walked in. “You’ve got ten minutes to drink that before Hutch comes in and starts making a racket with his breakfast.” 

 

“I can do it in ten minutes.” She stares in shock as Saw pours himself another cup. “Salt gods, how much caf do you drink?” 

 

“Usually the whole pot. I don’t eat breakfast.” 

 

_ No wonder everyone leaves you alone in the mornings _ . If Saw needs this much caf to function and he’s still grumpy, then she doesn’t want to imagine what he’d be like without it. At least it’s a smaller kettle. 

 

“So for the rest of today. Did Steela fill you in on any of our plans? I was busy.”  _ Really? You go from marriage proposal to daily schedules? That’s a bad segue if there ever was one.  _

 

“Yeah,” he grunts. “She’s somehow got ahold of supplies from a warehouse and she needs them moved over. If the bad weather continues that’ll take a while. And then there’s recon. She said something about sending me to scout the royal palace.” 

 

Dalla sets her mug down. “Do you think she’s considering a rescue mission?” 

 

“I can’t think of many other reasons. She could be looking at troops but they would mainly be palace security. If we rescued the king and your cousin, we’d have every Great House but Rash on our side. And it would open up the northern fleet.” 

 

“Are you going around the perimeter or trying to get inside?” 

 

“Perimeter, but as close as I can get. Past identity checkpoints.” He pulls out his wallet. “I have a fake, but it’s not very good.” 

 

Dalla examines the ID. The image is definitely Saw, but the card itself isn’t quite right. Too flimsy, and the measures built into legitimate IDs to stop fraud are working on this one. “You’re going to need some luck.” 

 

Saw’s face flashes as if he’s suddenly gotten the best idea in the universe, and then sobers up. 

 

Dalla raises an eyebrow. “What is it?” 

 

“Nothing.” 

 

“It didn’t look like nothing.” 

 

Saw takes a second to decide. “Don’t punch me for this.” 

 

“Why do you think I’d punch you?” 

 

“Because somewhere I heard it was good luck to kiss a sailor.” 

 

Dalla has no idea what he heard -- probably something a sailor in harbor for the night told a pretty girl, or he’s crossed one superstition with another -- but she does know what he means and she’s surprised to find her cheeks warming. It’s not like she’s never been kissed; that ship sailed when she was fourteen at Harkon Hall and taught a bookish vassal’s boy how to kiss mostly out of pity. Miranda laughed for years that considering Dalla’s own inexperience it was a miracle the lad actually learned anything, and to be honest he probably didn’t. But offering a kiss to a wide-eyed, chubby fourteen-year-old and having a good-looking man older than herself ask her for one…

 

She leans back on the counter trying her best to look nonchalant. “Only because your mission will help my cousin and you need all the luck you can get will I indulge that.”  

 

Saw’s usual smirk returns and he crosses the kitchen in two steps, so close she can smell the caf on his breath and her heartbeat quickens.  

 

“I can live with that,” he says. 

 

Judging from Saw’s reaction when their lips meet, it’s a wonder she didn’t scar the vassal’s boy for life. But he doesn’t pull back or freeze up, and for that she’s grateful. For the first time since Thias appeared she lets herself forget about the war, about Rash, about anything but Saw. 

 

“Oh my gods!” 

 

Saw’s eyes snap open and Dalla pulls back at the voice, though she doesn’t push Saw away. Hutch stands in the doorway with wide-eyed shock. 

 

“Get a room!” he shouts and bolts away. 

 

Dalla and Saw snap out of it. “Hutch, it’s not what it looks like!” He shouts and scrambles into some position that might look like they weren't just tangled up with each other. His arm catches the pot of caf and knocks it and their mugs onto the floor. Boiling hot caf bubbles out. 

 

“Kriff!” he swears and lifts Dalla onto the counter to get her away from the scalding liquid. “Are you okay?” 

 

“Aye.” Thank goodness both she and Saw are wearing leather boots. “Did it hit you?”

 

“No.” He grabs a towel and throws it onto the spilled caf, swearing when he accidentally touches it. 

 

Gripping the counter for security, Dalla leans down and picks up the pot and one of the mugs to put in the sink. Saw tosses the towel in after them and grabs another. 

 

“Of course it had to be today Hutch has his breakfast early,” he spits while mopping up the spill. Dalla takes another towel and slides off the counter to help. “He’s probably telling everybody right now.” 

 

“What do we do?” Her stomach knots with worry. That good luck kiss was supposed to be the send-off for her marriage proposal and die in the kitchen along with it. It was never supposed to spread to Steela and Lux -- and  _ oh gods, what if someone tells Thias?  _

 

But Saw isn’t listening to her. “The door locks. Why didn’t we lock the door?” he laments while wiping up the caf. “You were the last one through it.” 

 

“Saw!” She grabs his hand to stop his scrubbing. “What do we do?” 

 

He slows down and meets her eyes. He looks just as scared as she is, but of what she doesn’t know. 

 

“Okay,” he rolls back onto his feet. “Okay, I have a plan. Or rather, two plans. We just have to decide which one will work.” 

 

Dalla thinks she knows where this is going. “Do either one of these plans involve us pretending to be together?”  _ That only works on holosoaps.  _

 

“Uh, none of them do. Which one we use depends on how many people Hutch told already.” 

 

She scrambles to her feet. “Then shouldn’t we go stop him?” 

 

Saw beams their towels into the sink. “Yeah, we should.”

 

...

 

When Dalla and Saw corner Hutch and demand the names of every person he told, the situation is not pretty. 

 

In the thirty seconds he had to tell people, he told Hero, Ahsoka, and Lux. The only reason Steela wasn't included was because she was in the refresher. which Dalla can only pray she still is. 

 

“You couldn't keep your mouth shut for thirty seconds?” Saw demands. 

 

“You guys looked like you were going to do it in the kitchen!” Hutch protests. “You know, we have some perfectly good closets. We have a storeroom and a briefing room, all of which have locking doors. You know, the things that you activate to make sure other people can't open the door. All those options, and you go for the kitchen? The place where I prepare the food I put in my mouth? That's where you decide to do it?”

 

Dalla rolls her eyes. “Not like it's any of your business, but we weren't.”

 

“How did you even think that?” Saw scoffs. “There was space between us.”

 

Hutch snorts. “Yeah, a micrometer!”

 

Dalla glares at him and Hutch shuts up. 

 

“Is that what you told the others?” She asks. “That we were ‘doing it’--” she punctuates the phrase with air quotes -- “In the kitchen?”

 

“No.” He suddenly looks sheepish. “I said you were making out.”

 

That's better, but not much. Force only knows what people can fit under the umbrella of “making out.”

 

_ “Making out?”  _ Saw repeats. “Gods Hutch, what are we, twelve?” 

 

“You were!”

 

“It was one good luck kiss! That’s not making out!” 

 

Hutch looks like he wants to rebut that, but the looks on Saw’s and Dalla’s faces stop him. “How was I supposed to know?” 

 

“Maybe you decide it’s not your business and just keep quiet about it?” Dalla snaps. 

 

“It’s not my fault you two don’t know how to lock a door.” 

 

“It’s not our fault you don’t have brain cells,” Saw argues. “Hutch, you don’t know half the stuff that happened before you walked in. There’s more to the story.” 

 

Dalla throws him a pleading look before he can mention the proposal. “One last time. You only told Hero, Ahsoka, and Lux?” Lux she can safely ignore, but the other two could be a problem if they talk. 

 

“Yes, that’s everyone I told,” Hutch sighs. “They were going into the main room and what was I supposed to do? Pretend like nothing was going on?” 

 

_ “Yes!”  _ both of them shout in unison. 

 

Hutch raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry!” 

 

“Hutch, you have no idea how tempted I am to hit you.” 

 

He’s not the one who’ll hear about it for the rest of his life if this gets out of control. Dalla speaks up. “Saw, we need to set the record straight before the others squeal.” 

 

Apparently she sounds desperate enough, or Saw just doesn’t want to revert to his damage control plans. “If we can get them to meet with us in private --.” 

 

He’s cut off by the faint sound of the refresher door opening. 

 

_ Steela.  _

 

“Go get the rest of them!” Dalla orders, already bolting for the ‘fresher. “I’m going to stop her.” 

 

…

 

“Steela, can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Dalla skids in front of the refresher door, blocking Steela in. She’s taking no chances of someone coming up and blowing the secret.

 

Steela looks like she doesn't want to deal with anything this early in the morning and with the effects of the rainy weather reaching inside. “Sure,” she acquiesces and straightens her scarf. “Do you want to go to the briefing room instead, in case we need the holoprojector?” 

 

“We don’t need the holoprojector,” Dalla says and holds open the kitchen door for her. This time she locks it behind them. 

 

Steela takes one look at the room’s occupants: first Hero, then Lux, then Ahsoka, and she groans when she gets to Saw. “What did you do?” 

 

“More like what did Saw and Dalla do,” Hero snickers. 

 

Steela’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean, ‘what did Saw and Dalla do’?” 

 

Dalla stuffs the dish towels under the door to stopper in the sound. “Saw and I were talking this morning --”

 

“Talking?” Hero giggles. “Is that what you’re calling it?”  

 

Dalla ignores her. “Hutch walked in on something he didn’t understand and he told these other three --” 

 

“Oh, it’s pretty easy to understand, all right.” 

 

“We’re here to set the record straight.” She glares at Hero. “And since you’re the leader, we thought you should know.” 

 

“There’s no record to set straight. Steela, I wouldn’t touch that part of the counter if I were you --.” 

 

“Hero,” Ahsoka says ever-calmly. “Look at Dalla’s face. If you keep talking like you are and she suplexes you, I’m not going to stop her.” 

 

But the damage is done. “Did you two -- in the kitchen?” Steela demands.  It looks like she wants to kill Saw or Dalla or -- nope, it’s mostly Saw. “Sawyer Drokko Gerrera! I thought you were above seducing girls!”

 

“It’s not like you think!” Saw announces before Dalla can. “Not even close. We were kissing.” 

 

“It was one kiss,” she explains. 

 

“Like she said. One kiss, for good luck on the mission.” 

 

A proverbial lightbulb goes off over Lux’s head. “That makes a lot more sense than what I heard.”

 

Hero flounders. “Hutch said you were --!” 

 

“Well Hutch either needs a vocabulary lesson or an eye exam.” Saw glares at the man in question. If looks could kill…

 

“In my defense, it looked like you were going to do exactly what I said you were.” 

 

“Hutch, I don’t need the force to know that’s a gross overstatement,” Ahsoka deadpans. 

 

“I saw what I saw and I drew conclusions. Nothing wrong with that.” 

 

“That’s assuming. Want to know a good way to spell ‘assume’?” For a second it looks like Saw’s about to take a swing at Hutch but Lux steps between them. 

 

“There’s no reason to fight,” he reasons. “We’re here to clear up the situation, not make it worse. If I understand correctly, the only thing that happened between these two was a kiss.” 

 

“That’s correct.” Dalla risks a look at Steela, who doesn’t look very impressed. At least she’s not angry at Saw’s nonexistent seduction. 

“And nothing else?” Lux raises an eyebrow to ask the question he can’t say aloud. 

 

She answers with a tiny shake of her head. “Nothing else. Just a good luck kiss.” 

 

Lux flashes her an  _ I'm sorry  _ expression. “Well that sounds rather open-and-shut. I see no reason to say otherwise, or to say anything at all.” He directs the last one pointedly to Hutch, who shrinks. 

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

 

“You should be.” 

 

Now that she’s assured no extracurricular activities took place in her kitchen, Steela’s rage simmers away. Saw can kiss every girl in their ranks for all she cares. “I’m for filing this under ‘Topics That Shall Never Be Discussed Again.’ Any objections?” 

 

Silence. 

 

“Great. Oh, and you two?” She points to Dalla and Saw. “Next time,  _ lock the door.”  _

 

Dalla blinks. “B-but --!” 

 

“That’s all,” Steela says and walks out, the others swarming around her in retreat.  

 

_ There isn’t going to be a next time,  _ Dalla sourly finishes her sentence in her head. 

 

Saw stares at his sister, caught equally off guard, but he has the presence of mind to keep the door wide open when they leave him and Dalla alone in the kitchen. 

 

They stand there trying not to make eye contact with one another (what is there to say in a situation like this?) until there’s a knock on the door frame and a “Hey, Dalla?” 

 

She didn’t think she was ever going to admit this, but thank the salt gods for her little brother. “Hey Thias. Did you just wake up?” 

 

Thias nods and enters the kitchen, eyeing the conservator and the cupboards. “Can I have some breakfast?”

 

“You don’t need to ask me for food.” She opens another cupboard and tosses him a jogan from her and Steela’s grocery run. It’s probably been a long time since he had anything with vitamin C and she’s not about to let him get scurvy on dry land. “Just go with shipboard rationing protocol and you’ll be fine unless Steela says something else.”   

“I have a better menu option.” Saw opens a cupboard, and pulls out a half-empty bag of cheese curls. 

 

She raises an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t eat breakfast.” 

 

“I don’t.” He whispers and holds the bag of processed, cheesy goodness out to Thias. “This is Hutch’s personal stash. I’m getting revenge.” 

 

Thias stuffs a handful of the snacks into his mouth without hesitation, then goes for a second. Dalla hopes the crunching is enough to drown out Saw’s whisper. 

“What was going on in here?” Thias asks between bites. “Dono wanted to get in for a drink of water but the door was locked.” 

 

“We were having a meeting,” she says  

 

“In the kitchen?” 

 

“No Thias, in the conservator.” Hopefully the ridiculousness of that will derail his train of thought. “Make sure you eat the jogan too, or Father and Aunt Shara will kill me for letting you eat cheese curls for breakfast.” 

 

Thias takes one bite out of the jogan before going back to the cheese curls. “Wouldn’t you guys usually have meetings in the briefing room?” 

 

Kriff. “We have meetings wherever it’s convenient and private. Saw needs his caf in the mornings.” 

 

“Either that or I’m a monster,” Saw says from the sink where he’s rinsing out the caf mugs. He tosses Dalla the towel to dry and a wink along with it. She doesn’t know whether to go with it or smack him with the towel. They just got out of one bind; the last thing they need is a second. 

But Thias is still absorbed in the cheese curls. “Cool,” he says, clearly not paying attention.

 

“Don't eat the entire bag,” Dalla cautions him.

 

“Do eat the entire bag,” Saw replies. This time she lightly whacks him with the towel and he rubs his arm. “Ow! What do you have against payback?”

 

“I don't want him to get sick off them,” she explains and wipes down one of the mugs. 

 

“Who ever got sick off cheese curls?”

 

“Nobody,” Thias says and shakes the last few crumbs into his mouth. 

 

“Saw, if he throws up you’re helping me clean.” 

 

“Hey kid?” Saw looks over his shoulder. “Don't throw up, got it?” 

 

Thias gives him a thumbs-up in reply and continues his work on the jogan. 

 

Dalla dries the last mug and rolls her eyes. “I take it you two are the best of friends?” 

 

“No, we hate each other,” Thias snarks and gulps down the last of the jogan. 

 

“Some serious hate there,” she sighs. “I’ll have to go talk with Steela. We’ll team up to survive...whatever _ this _ is. Prepare yourselves.” 

 

“Ooh,” Saw says in mock horror. “I’m so scared.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is, the origin of Some Say I Got Devil’s reigning banter champions and their biggest joke. Thank you to everyone for reading, and please leave us a comment!


	36. Dead Men Tell No Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had to press LS into service once again for this 'ere chapter, which if ye haven't guessed from the title has to do with piratey things. Arrrr. ~ DK

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon when the cabin boy for the _Siren’s Call_ woke up to the sound of the mate in the nest shouting and the crew around him springing to life.

 

He rolled out of his hammock more on instinct than anything else and rushed toward the deck with the other sailors. He’d barely gotten to the main hatch when the midshipman, who was able to see up to  the deck snagged his arm and pulled him back.

 

“All hands don’t mean you tonight, kid,” he said and shoved him into the captain’s cabin.

 

“What’s goin’ on?” the six-year-old scanned the cabin for any sign of Captain Eva, but she was gone and her blanket lay crumpled at the foot of her berth, like she’d kicked it off in a hurry.

 

“Ship’s pullin’ up close,” the midshipman told him. “Maybe they just need a tow, but if it’s somethin’ else then you’re best in here. If you hear anything going awry, then you hit that emergency beacon to let Lord Blackwell know.”

 

The cabin boy fired off a “yes, sir!” but the midshipman was gone before he could say a word. Instead he lit Captain Eva’s lantern and started to fix the bed to have something to keep his hands busy while he listened to the muffled sounds from the deck. He’d only pulled the blanket up halfway when there was an almighty crash and Captain Eva bellowed: _“Boarding party!”_

 

The cabin boy froze. Boarding party? A boarding party meant they were being attacked, but -- but that couldn’t be right. This was a fishing voyage! The _Siren’s Call_ was a fishing vessel, not a warship.

 

The sound of screams and clashing steel on the deck cemented his suspicions and he scrambled to the porthole to see what was going on. He couldn’t see whatever was happening on the deck, but he could barely make out the aggressors’ ship and the banner they were flying. Barely visible in the light cast from the decks, it was a blue stream on a red banner.

 

He clambered back to the holotable and quickly booted up the emergency beacon. He was no expert on heraldry, but he knew what that banner meant. Lord Blackwell had to know!

 

…

 

Lana paced the floor, bouncing the screaming toddler on her hip. Dalla was teething and nothing was making the pain any better.

 

“Please let me take her for awhile so you can get some sleep.” Shara beseeched her. “It's why I asked Jamos to change the fishing schedule, so I could be here to help you out.”

 

Lana sighed. “Maybe it will help for her to have someone new.” She passed the baby over.

 

There was a break in the squall while Dalla looked up to see who had her now and then it began again in full force and she reached out for her mother. “Mama!”

 

Shara returned Dalla to her mother. “I'm sorry, Lana.”

 

“It's not your fault.” Lana half smiled as she resumed pacing and bouncing. “Remember when I couldn't wait for her to be able to say, ‘mama’?”

 

“Would you like me to make some caff at least?” Shara asked.

 

“That would be lovely.”

 

Shara made her way towards the kitchen. _Caff was definitely in order and maybe she would warm up some biscuits as well, and maybe there was something frozen in the conservator that Dalla could chew on to bring her some relief_...

 

But as the toddler's cries receded, another sound caught her attention. She'd never heard anything like it. _It was an alarm! Was there a fire?_ It was coming from the comm room.

 

Just as she was wondering if she should wake someone, Marlon came barreling down the hallway. He half apologized as he rushed past her.

 

A moment later Jamos was on his heels. “Marlon already heard it?” he asked.

 

“Yes, what is it?”

 

“Emergency beacon. It means one of our ships is in trouble.” He hurried off after his brother.

 

Lana followed behind with Dalla who was now quiet, distracted by the disturbance. “Better get that caff going. Sounds like the men are going to need it too.”

 

…

 

When Marlon pressed the activation button he wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Not a ship tilting as it took on water, nor a fire raging in the background, but the terrified face of a six-year-old cabin boy.

 

_“Please help!”_ the child screeched, too young and too terrified to remember any of the proper callsigns.

 

Marlon checked the transmitter’s information for a split second: the ship’s name, the captian’s name, and their current location. Considering the kid’s age he took a wild guess.  “Are you Captain Eva Murphy’s cabin boy, on the ship _Siren’s Call?”_

 

_“Yes! Please help, they’re coming!”_

 

“Who’s coming?” Marlon demanded. Now that the transmission had begun running for a few seconds he could make out the unmistakable sound of fighting outside the chamber.

 

_“They pulled up next to us an’ we thought they needed a tow, but they sent a boarding party and now --.”_

 

They didn’t have time for this. “I’m sending help for you now, son. Now take a deep breath and tell me who is boarding your ship.”

 

The lad was about to answer when there was the sound of a splintering door and he scrambled out of the holofield only to be snagged back by a beefy arm. The arm’s owner stepped into the field, confirming Marlon’s worst suspicions.

 

Hugo Bralykburn held the cabin boy in one hand and a harpoon in the other. _“Commin’ a friend, are we?”_

 

“Let the boy go, Hugo,” Marlon ordered. “He’s only following orders.”

 

_“Speaking of orders, why isn’t your brother’s tub here?”_ Hugo demanded, still holding the cabin boy. _“He’s supposed to be on this route, not this lot!”_

 

Marlon was starting to suspect Hugo’s reasons for this plunder, but he could play hardball too. “This crew did nothing wrong. Let them go home to their families and I’ll forget this.”

 

_“Aye, you will. You and your whole damn clan will forget it just like your spoiled kriffing brother and his southern witch forgot about us the last time.”_ He punctuated his sentence by waving the harpoon in a dangerous arc and Marlon stayed quiet to avoid provoking him into a larger gesture which could hurt the captive boy, intentionally or not.  

 

“Hugo, what happened last year was a terrible tragedy,” he said, keeping his voice as low and even as he could. “But it was an accident. Jamos and Shara couldn’t get a signal out, there was no malice in it.”

 

_“Then there’s no malice in this, either,”_ Hugo growled. _“You bring out that witch of a beast master or I swear Blackwell, this’ll happen again, and again, and again, until I get my hands on her. And when I do, what happened on this tub will look like a game.”_

 

He jerked his arms and the cabin boy screeched. Hugo didn’t even notice, but Marlon zeroed in on him. “Hugo, he’s a cabin boy. He didn’t do anything. Let him go.”

 

Hugo looked down, as if he’d just remembered the boy was there, before yanking him front and center. To Marlon’s immense relief, the harpoon arm fell to his side.

 

_“You can remember important things?”_ He asked and the boy nodded frantically with his eyes squeezed shut.

 

_“Good. I'm going to give you a message for Lord Blackwell. When he comes to get you, you deliver it to him.”_

 

If the message wasn't the best insurance he was going to get that Hugo wouldn't harpoon the boy, Marlon would have demanded he speak to him directly. Instead he watched while Hugo whispered into the boy’s ear.

 

“Hugo, this is your last chance,” he said when the older man was done whispering. “Leave them alone and I will seek no vengeance for this.”

 

_“I'll let my messenger do the rest of the talking,”_ Hugo announced, then released the cabin boy and slammed his harpoon into the comm unit.

 

…

 

_“Then there’s no malice in this, either.” The_ image of Hugo Bralykburn growled, swinging the harpoon.

 

Lana cried out in horror, having just walked in on the moment as Marlon replayed the message for his brother.

 

“Quiet.” Jamos hushed her. Not trying to be rude but trying to catch every word of the Pirate’s ultimatum.

 

_“... again, and again, and again, until I get my hands on her. And when I do, what happened on this tub will look like a game.”_

 

“What did he say?” Jamos asked, pausing the recording. “What was that part we just missed?”

 

Marlon sighed with anger and frustration. “He wants Shara. He thinks somehow she could have prevented what happened last year during the storm.”

 

Lana was still staring at the frozen image of the pirate with his harpoon so dangerously close to the poor cabin boy. “The child wasn’t hurt was he?”

 

“No.” Marlon went to her. “No, as far as we know he left the boy alive. Jamos and I will head out right away to…”

 

“Why would he… It’s insane! We didn’t even know his family was on the water! Couldn’t have possibly gotten word to him even if we knew! And he blames Shara for this?” Jamos paced the comm room.

“Thinks she's some sort of Jedi witch.” Marlon shook his head. “That's how she's been bringing in all the great catches. She just commands the fish to jump straight into the net and they come gladly.”

 

“She has a talent, aye, but there's nothing magical about it.” Jamos huffed. “He's fracking jealous, that's what he is, but I never thought he'd resort to this.” He gestured to still image.

 

“Shara can not know about this,” said Lana.

 

Jamos shook his head. “I don't like lying to her.”

 

“But if she knew he was doing these terrible things in her name…”

 

“It would destroy her, Jay. You know that.” Marlon laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. “She might even try to hand herself over to make it stop.”

 

Jamos warred with his own emotions. He didn't want their relationship to be built on deceptions but if it put her in danger… “Sailors talk. She'll find out about it eventually.”

 

“Aye, she probably will, but hopefully the two of you will be off to fix this before that happens.” Lana sighed. “I think I can keep her distracted well enough here.” She glanced at the holo image again and shuddered. Then she squared her shoulders and gave the two brothers her best northern woman glare. “Well do you know where he is? Where he'll be heading next?”

 

“We'll be able to follow the emergency beacon from this holo to find the _Siren's Call_.” Marlon smiled gratefully at his wife. He didn't know how he would ever perform his duties as Lord without her ability to keep him on track and her confidence in him.

 

“He knew what the schedule of the voyage was supposed to be, at least until I changed it at the last minute.” Jamos didn't like to think what might have happened if the _Polaris_ was on it's charted run. “He must have gotten ahold of our plans somehow. I'll check in with our ships that are in that area and ask if they've seen him already and if not to keep a lookout.”

 

The three put their heads together, making plans and putting out comms to the crews that were on the water and those who were still in dock instructing them to be on the lookout and to prepare for the coming trouble. Lana had just finished a comm to the Harkons and the brothers were in deep conversation over a holomap when Shara and Dalla arrived pushing a cart with the caff things spread out on top it. All three of them went as silent as the salt gods halls.

 

“What?” Shara asked. A moment before she had been smiling at her little 'helper’, but all merriment dropped from her expression when she sensed the seriousness of the room. “What happened? It wasn't another storm?” They hadn't gotten any bad weather at the Hold but that didn't mean a squall couldn't have blown up over the sea where one of the other ships of the fleet were out fishing.

 

Before either Marlon or Jamos could speak Lana rushed to pick up Dalla. “I'll get her back in bed. Thanks, Shara for taking her and settling her down. Looks like whatever you gave her for her gums did the trick.” She gave Jamos a look as she passed him and he gave her a slight nod in return.

 

They waited until she had left with the toddler before Marlon stepped forward and helped himself to the caff on the cart. “Aye, thanks, Shara. I was just wishing for a cup.”

 

“But what's going on?” She asked again. Once Marlon had finished pouring, she immediately began to prepare a second cup for Jamos exactly the way she knew he took it with blue cream and sucrose. “The alarm? The planning?” She nodded towards the maps and datapads.

 

Jamos looked as if he wanted to explain but he was holding his tongue. She handed him his cup and he took a hasty drink burning his mouth in the process.

 

“It wasn't a storm.” Marlon finally began and Shara turned to listen. “It was something I hoped we'd never have to deal with.”

 

“Hugo Bralykburn…” Jamos spat.

 

But Marlon cut him off. “The Bralykburn clan have once again gone pirate.”

 

“Well, you'll be getting the _Polaris_ crew together.” Shara gathered. She wiped her hands on her apron, ready to get down to business. “We'll be setting off to go and…”

 

“Not the _Polaris_!” Jamos exclaimed and then tried to shrug it off. “You'll be staying here to help out Lana with Dalla.”

 

“It's my responsibility as Lord to go and confront Hugo.” Marlon said heavily. “We'll be taking _Alon’s Hand_. I've asked Jamos to come along with me for the negotiations since he's had experience with the Bralykburns in the past.”

 

_None of it good_ . Shara thought to herself. _And Jamos would only leave behind his ship if he thought Hugo had some plans to do it harm during the confrontation_. She pursed her lips, worriedly.

 

“You will stay with Lana so she doesn't worry about this brother of mine while he's off laying down the law?” Jamos set down his caff and asked, his eyes pleading with her.

 

“Aye. Of course.” She told him.

 

Marlon smiled awkwardly. “It really would put my mind at ease knowing you're here with she and Dalla while we're gone.”

 

And from the look Jamos was giving her she knew he would feel better about Lana staying with her.

 

…

 

At the dock Shara looked to her left and saw Marlon saying goodbye to his wife and daughter. To her right, she saw Maris and Ness wrapped up in each other's arms. Before her, Jamos stood awkwardly.

 

She had to ask him before he left, now that the others weren't around to tell him not to. “It's because of me, isn't it? Hugo Bralykburn is still angry I couldn't help his family.”

 

Jamos cringed. “That wasn't your fault and neither is this.”

 

She nodded, understanding why he didn't want to tell her. “Please be careful.” and then before she could talk herself out of it, she stood on her tiptoes, pulled his face down to meet her and kissed him fiercely.

 

His arms slipped around her and he pulled her close. When their lips parted with a shared gasp, he stuttered, “Does that mean? W-what did that mean?”

 

“We'll talk about it when you…” Then she shoved him away. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll get back.”

 

…

 

Any delusions Marlon had about the Bralykburns taking mercy ended when he saw the _Siren’s Call_ floating aimlessly, its sails torn to shreds. As his crew pulled up to the side and dropped the gangplank, it was clear to everyone that even if the sails were intact it wouldn’t have mattered. There was no one left to steer.

 

Marlon’s stomach churned, staring at the deck and the few bodies. They’d been left where they fell, with slit throats and harpoon wounds in their chests, their backs, their stomachs. The woman who he recognized as the captain lay slumped over the wheel, her shirt stained completely red.

 

“Salt gods…” one of his crew gaped.

 

“Where in salt gods’ halls is everyone else?” Another whispered.

 

He closed his eyes and then addressed his crew, who was still on the other side of the gangplank. “Bury them,” he ordered, and pressed his thumb to his lips before extending his palm outward. “In the light of the salt gods.”

 

The crew repeated the gesture and filed onto the ship as silent as the dead. Marlon walked past them to the hatch and descended belowdecks, hoping and praying he’d find the rest of the missing crew, but the only evidence someone had been here was a set of bloody boot prints leading to a kicked-open door. He followed them, careful not to step in any of the evidence, and cautiously pushed open the door.

 

It was the captain’s quarters, and they were empty except for the toe of a small boot sticking out from behind the comm table.

 

“Hello?”

 

The boot jerked back and Marlon took a careful step toward it. “I am Lord Marlon Blackwell. Is someone here?”

 

It only took another step for him to reach the comm table and look around it. The cabin boy from the hologram cowered against it, hugging his knees to his chest.

 

“Hello there.” Marlon crouched down to the boy’s level. “Have you been here this whole time?”

 

The boy nodded.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

The cabin boy slowly met Marlon’s eyes and whispered “Colin.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Colin. I’m Marlon.” When Colin didn’t respond Marlon kept going. “Colin, we can’t find any of your crewmates. Do you know where they are?”

 

Colin flinched. “They took ‘em.”

 

“Who took them? The Bralykburns?”

 

Nod. “He gave ‘em a choice to swear loyalty to him, or they’d sit in a dungeon at the Keep. Or feed the Chirns.”

 

That wasn’t good. “If he took everyone, then why are you still here? Were you hiding?”

 

Colin shook his head. “I had to tell you something. He said to tell you that the southern witch could have prevented this and she could have prevented what’s going to happen next.”

 

Marlon’s stomach sank. This was, if possible, worse than what he imagined. Not only did Hugo have salt gods know how many of his sailors locked in his dungeons, but he was planning to strike again? The next crew might not be so lucky as to be given the choice this one had.

 

“Alright Colin.” He momentarily shook off his worries and reached out to the kid. “Message delivered. Now how about you come over to my ship and we can take you home.”

 

“Home?” Colin repeated.

 

“Aye, home,” Marlon said. “Your momma and papa are probably worried sick.”  

 

He covered the boy’s eyes when they reached the deck since his crew hadn’t finished taking care of the carnage. Now that he looked closer he could see the fallen were from both sides -- the _Siren’s Call_ put up quite a fight before they were overtaken.  

 

He suppressed a shiver while he led Colin over the gangplank to his own ship. Gods only knew if the missing crew was paying for that fight right now.

 

…

 

“Colin Kretash.” Jamos looked up from the holo log he was studying and smiled warmly at the boy when his brother set him down in the _Alon's Hand_ commcabin.

 

“Yes Sir, Captain Blackwell.” And he saluted smartly almost as a reflex. Though he was called captain and they had never met, the younger Blackwell brother had the reputation of being something like the admiral of the fleet. He took care of his crews (the _Siren's Call_ notwithstanding) and the young man was Colin's hero, the reason he had wanted to sail under Blackwell banners. And here he was addressing the boy as if they had always known one another.

 

“I have it on good authority that I have the pleasure of meeting a very brave and loyal crewman, Mr. Kretash.” Jamos stood from his desk and went to kneel at the boy's eye level.

 

Though exhausted and traumatized by the recent series of events, Colin cracked a smile. “I tried to do my duty, sir.”

 

“You've done brilliantly and I think you deserve a rest and a good meal and then we're going to see you home for a short leave. How does that sound?”

 

The boy nodded gratefully.

 

“He can sleep in my cabin.” Jamos looked up at his brother. Who motioned for another crew member to take the boy and get him settled.

 

Jamos stood, watching Colin exit with a sad smile.

 

Suddenly the boy turned back to his mentor. “It'll only be a short leave, aye Captain?”

 

“Oh aye.” Jamos assured him, knowing that after this fateful voyage his family would most likely be lothed to let him go off again so soon. “In fact, when you're ready to return to active service…” He laid his hand on Colin's shoulder but looked to his brother. “Wasn't I just remarking the other day, Lord Marlon, how I found myself in want of a capable cabin boy aboard the _Polaris_?” He winked.

 

Marlon caught on and played along. “Why, aye, I do remember us having such a conversation.”

 

“Really, Sir?” The boy looked back and forth between the two brothers. “On the _Polaris_?”

 

“Would that suit you, Mr. Kretash?” Jamos grinned.

 

“Aye, sir, Captain Blackwell, sir.” He saluted again.

 

“Right then. I expect you to make the most of your leave. Get rested up, back in tip top shape, and ready for action.”

 

“I will, sir! I promise!”

 

The crewman saw the boy out and Jamos sighed and walked back towards his desk.

 

“You handled that masterfully, little brother,” Marlon told him when the door was shut and the two of them alone. “It was good to see the hope return to that boy's eyes.”

 

“Aye. Just hope I can make good on that proposal. If he was my kid and he'd just been through an ordeal like that, I wouldn't be in a hurry to send him off on another voyage.” He rubbed his aching head. “Seven dead that we know of, Marl, four from the _Siren's_ crew including her captain and three from Hugo's.”

 

Marlon didn't comment on his brother's, 'if he were mine’ statement but it did bring to light the fact that Jamos was much more in favor of having a family of his own than he once had been. “Doesn't seem to matter to Hugo whose banner they flew under. He left his own dead on the deck just like the rest, in his hurry to be away.”

 

“Aye, but where away?” Jamos brought up a holo map with the last known positions of every currently sailing ship in the Blackwell fleet. “There were thirty-five souls aboard the _Siren's Call_. Four dead on the deck and poor Colin left for us to find, assuming Bralykburn kept the rest of them alive as leverage, we can only hope,” he unconsciously made a sign to the salt gods. “That's thirty captives he's got to stow somewhere until he can bargain for them.”

 

“You don't think he'll try to hit another target until he's unloaded the first.” Marlon gathered.

 

“I don't see how he could unless he had another vessel ready to take on the catch so he can move on from there unencumbered.”

 

“So we could be chasing more than one craft.” Marlon frowned at how much harder their task had just become.

 

Jamos nodded and stroked his beard. “I've already commed our ships that are most likely in the path…”

 

“And which way do we sail?” Marlon stared at the map and deferred to his brother's greater knowledge of the sea.

 

“I think we should do what we told Colin we were going to do and take him home.” Jamos suggested.

 

“What? Not chase Hugo?”

 

“We don't know exactly where he's going. Might as well be chasing drexls if we try to follow him into open sea away from the Hold. But Colin's parents are vassals of house Harkon. If we sail towards Harkon Hall, we can see the boy home before he has to witness anymore battles and we can recruit Glover and his ships to help in the search.”

 

Marlon nodded. “It's a good plan. Glove has dealt with Hugo as well, sheltered him and his daughter after the wreck. He would be a good man to have along. Alright, I'll give the order.”

 

…

 

Leagues away from the _Alon's Hand_ and _Siren's Call_ , two other ship were pulled up alongside one another. _Dxun's Fang_ had dropped it's gangplank to the deck of _Chirn Hunter_ so that it's cargo of human captives could be unloaded.

 

Hugo gave his orders to the other captain. “Straight back to the Keep and get 'em in the brig. Except the kid who lost the eye.” He added in a lower voice. “Make sure he gets whatever treatment he needs. And,” he scowled disappointedly. “Try not to rough the rest of ‘em up too much. Might still have need of 'em when the Blackwells come to call.”

 

“Aye, my lord. You'll be headed out for another bounty? Will you need us to meet you for another pickup?”

 

“Nah. If all goes well. We'll have a brand new vessel to bring the next catch home in.”

 

The other man gave Hugo a smile and a salute. “Happy hunting, my lord.”

 

Hugo grinned as he watched the last of the cargo stowed below decks and the _Chirn Hunter_ pull away. His plans were going swimmingly. There had been the brief hiccup when they had come upon that other craft instead of his real target but this would work out even better.

 

His only regret, Hugo thought with a frown, was the boys. The cabin boy had looked to be of an age with Talia. And the other one, probably on his first voyage as midshipman, reminded him of  Dominic… Neither of ‘em deserved what they got. But Dom didn't deserve to die either.

 

“Heading, my lord?” The navigator asked from the helm.

 

Hugo shook himself from his memories. “South by southwest.”

 

“But, sir, aren't we goin’ after the next ship on your list?”

 

Getting the Blackwell comm officer drunk in that pub and copying down the shipping schedule had been the best idea he'd ever had. “Nope. Let 'em think we're goin’ that way. We're gonna sneak around behind them for the bigger prey.”

 

“Aye, my lord.”

 

Hugo nodded as he watched his orders being fulfilled. “Where's Mr. Slone?”

 

His own weasley comm officer, he was more of a comm slicer actually, came forward at the mention of his name. “Yes, my lord, captain?”

 

“I'm gonna need you to work your magic when we get close. You can disrupt all their long range comm frequencies so they don't know we're coming and they can't signal for help?”

 

“Of course.” The man gave a slight bow. “May I ask what our target will be, lord Bralykburn?”

 

This was where the genius of the pirate expressed itself. He had laid the false trail. The supposed lord of the north and his whelp of a brother would be far away on a wild chirn hunt. And all the time thinking that his pretty little ship and prettier little beast master were safe at home. “We're headed to Blackhold.”

 

To be continued…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LS and I LOVE reviews! They keep us going! And you do want us to keep going. You wouldn't want us to just leave you with an awful cliffhanger like that, now would you?


	37. Save Our Sons from War We Pray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are times where it appears that Sawyer Drokko Gerrera does not have brain cells. This, to everyone’s chagrin, is one of those times. -LS

“You would be Thias’ brother.” She should have started her list of reasons with “you would be Thias’ brother”! 

 

Dalla mentally kicks herself for thinking of the perfect thing to say after Saw’s already turned her down. Of course she should have mentioned her family. Of course she should have told Saw how they’d all love him and Steela. Heck, Aunt Shara married  _ Sanjay Rash  _ partially to have his sister as her own. Dalla can’t see any reason Saw wouldn’t go with it. 

 

But that's not going to help anyone, at least not now. Instead Dalla winds her borrowed scarf around her head and steps out of the base into the rain to help move the crates of supplies. 

 

Ahsoka and Steela stand outside, directly in the downpour, to direct the movements. At least, that's the stated reason. They seem to be pretty wrapped up in their own conversation.

 

“As soon as Lux heard he said it sounded fishy. It just didn't sound like something they would do.”

 

“Oh gods no. A highborn lady would never do that. I thought I was going to have to kill Saw for a second, but it sounded weird.”

 

“And Hutch and Hero? Holy force, they wouldn't stop.”

 

“Hutch isn't looking Saw in the eye at the moment. Hero says whatever she thinks. I'll have to talk to her; I think we both thought Dalla was going to punch her.”

 

_ Saw and I are never going to live that down as long as I'm here. It must be awful luck to kiss a sailor.  _

 

Ahsoka sees her coming before she can reply to Steela’s comment and quickly changes the subject. “Okay guys,” she says to the two men carrying in a crate of supplies. “Put it in the back with the rest.” 

 

“Are there any more I can help with?” Dalla asks.

 

“That’s the last of them,” Steela says. “We’re about to go sort them in the back and we’ll need help.”

 

“We’ll need to dry off first,” Ahsoka points out. Rivulets of rainwater run down her montrals, soaking her clothes. It looks like someone threw Steela into the river, and Dalla can already feel the rain soaking through her scarf. 

 

“I’ll get Thias to help. He should be done eating breakfast by now,” she says. “If you can call cheese curls breakfast.” 

 

Steela closes her eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t just say cheese curls.”    

Dalla nods gravely. 

 

“Saw?” 

 

“Saw.” 

 

“Some days I think he has pudding for brains.” 

 

Dalla would bet on today being a pudding day. She’s about to go fetch her brother when Dono shouts from around the corner: “Steela!” 

 

All three girls snap to attention as Dono races down a staircase, dropping a packet of holodisks in her hurry. “They’re executing King Dendup tomorrow in Yolahn Square.” 

 

“Where did you hear this?” 

 

“Malagan Market. The merchants,” Dono pants. “The Separatists are saying he’s behind our attacks.” 

 

“More lies,” Steela scoffs. She pushes past Saw, who apparently came to the door to investigate Dono’s shout. “They’re making him an example, to humiliate us.” 

 

“Maybe,” Ahsoka muses. “But their efforts could work against them; executing him would only make him a martyr.” 

 

“If we don’t have a king to declare for, we’ll all become martyrs for nothing,” Dalla points out. 

 

Lux backs her up. “Nobody would declare for a group of bannerless rebels, not when there’s someone sitting the throne already. If we don’t have a king, then we have no pieces on the gameboard.”

 

“So we can’t let him die!” Saw implores. “We have to break him out somehow.” 

 

_ Tandin said Kason was being kept in Dendup’s chambers. If Saw breaks him out... _

 

“No,” Steela quashes Saw’s idea and Dalla’s train of thought. “We should wait until he’s in public, at the execution.” 

 

“That’s where they’d expect it!” 

 

“I know. But this is our moment. We’ll save him for all of Iziz to witness!” Steela explains. “We don’t have much time.” 

 

“They’re counting on us to show up!” Saw shouts and looks desperately to Dalla for backup. “Dalla, your cousin is there.” 

 

“I want nothing more than to rip the palace apart brick by brick until I get to him.” She weighs her words. “But I waited until I thought he was in public too. There are too many risks charging in there blind.” 

 

Saw glares at all of them and then starts for the door. 

 

“Where are you going?” Steela demands. 

 

“Trust me.” 

 

But Steela is well-versed in Siblingese. She knows that  _ trust me _ , when spoken from one sibling to another, means  _ I am about to do something incredibly stupid _ . “Stop!” 

 

Incomprehensibly, Saw stops. “Let me take care of this.”

 

Steela shakes her head. “This isn’t about you.” 

 

Lux steps up. “We can’t afford a reckless move right now.” 

 

“Yeah?” Saw snorts. “Go write a speech about it.” 

 

Lux’s face darkens and Thias peeks his head into the main room. “What are you guys doing?” 

 

“Thias, go back to the kitchen,” Dalla orders. 

 

“What’s--?” 

 

_ “Now, Thias.”  _

 

Thias slinks away, leaving them in silence until Ahsoka looks at Saw and says, very quietly, “You have to weigh the risks.” 

 

“That’s why I’m going alone.” 

 

And without even flipping up the hood of his cloak to shield him from the rain, Saw walks out the door and melts into the street. Dono steps forward and raises an eyebrow at Steela. 

 

“Follow him,” Steela orders. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know that none of them can actually stop Saw, but this way they’ll at least know he’s safe. 

 

“Remember what I said about pudding?” she mutters under her breath. “Today is one of those days.” 

 

Dalla wants to check on Pudding Brain No. 2 as soon as she can, both to calm the situation and ensure he’s still here. She comes beside Lux and Ahsoka. “I’m going to talk to Thias. Will you fill me in if Steela gives orders?” 

 

“Of course, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.” It doesn’t. Steela plops herself down in a chair to massage her temples and probably get her thoughts in order. “I’ll stay around, just in case.” 

 

Ahsoka lightly touches her arm to get her attention. “I’ll go with you. I have experience talking down stubborn mules.”  

 

“Thank you. He sure can be one.” 

 

“Of that, I have no doubt.” 

 

“I don’t even know why he’s stayed in here as long as he has.” Dalla shakes her head and reaches for the control panel on the kitchen door. 

 

The door opens and answers Dalla’s question. Thias is currently wiggling out the window above the sink, half his body already outside. He freezes for a second when he hears the door open, and then doubles his efforts. 

 

Dalla lunges forward to grab his legs and haul him back in, but Ahsoka beats her to the punch. The Jedi advisor closes her eyes in concentration and then closes her hands as if grasping something. Thias stops. 

 

“What’s going on?” he demands. “Hey --  _ hey!”  _

 

Ahsoka telekinetically pulls him out of the window and settles him safely on the floor, opening her hands and her eyes to release him from her grip. 

 

_ Woah.  _ Neither of the Blackwells have seen a force user wield their talents before -- not in person, at least. No one can remember the last time a force-sensitive baby was born in the North, which means no Jedi came to take them to the Temple. As her father says, Aloysius and his followers came north to get away from dark magic; they must have willed it out of their blood.

 

But magic or not only one thought crosses Dalla’s mind while she watches Ahsoka handle her brother from across the room:  _ wow.  _

 

“Thanks,” she whispers. 

 

“Not a problem,” Ahsoka cracks her knuckles as if to warm them up after disuse. “Well, I think that’s why he stayed in the kitchen as long as he did.” 

 

“Yes, it seems like it.” Dalla glares at Thias. “Care to explain why you didn’t use the door?” 

 

“I was just going to go find out where Saw’s going,” he grumps. 

 

Ahsoka looks to her and Dalla suppresses a sigh. This is going to go over like a lead balloon, but if she doesn’t level with her brother then he’s going to find it out from someone else. 

 

“Saw’s off to the palace for a self-proclaimed mission. He doesn’t have a plan, and it’s risky business.” 

 

“Wait, the palace? Like where Kason is?” 

 

She nods. “We heard that Rash is planning to execute King Dendup. It’s a rescue mission, but --.” 

 

“Well why aren’t you with him?” Thias jumps to his feet.   

 

“Thias, he’s going in blind. Everyone else tried to stop him, his chances of success aren’t good at all.” 

 

“But there is a chance. He could find Kason and rescue him and then Rash wouldn’t have any leverage on us.” 

 

_ “If  _ it works. The odds of that happening are practically nil.” 

 

“Practically nil isn't nil. If he had backup, then I bet his chances would be even better. Salt gods, Dalla, I can't believe you didn't go with him! Don't you care about Kason?” 

 

“Yes Thias, I care about him. But I'm not about to risk all our lives on a reckless mission!” 

 

Ahsoka intervenes. “Thias, I understand you’re worried about your cousin. But charging into a situation like this blind -- it’s unwise.” 

 

“So you’re not going to help him either,” 

 

“It isn’t so black and white.” 

 

“Yes it is,” he snaps. “Kason needs help, you have a chance, and you’re not going to take it. Fine. If you won’t, I will.” 

 

“Uh, no you’re not.” Dalla informs him and immediately blocks the door. 

 

“Oh, really?” Thias challenges. “What’s stopping me?” 

 

Dalla and Ahsoka look at each other with raised eyebrows. 

 

…

 

It isn’t really that hard.  

 

The two girls carry Thias like a sack of flour, Ahsoka holding his arms and Dalla his legs, down the hallway toward the storeroom. 

 

“Put me down!” he yells and wriggles again, but it’s no use. Thias is no match for Ahsoka’s iron, probably force-assisted grip or Dalla’s adrenaline-fueled one. “I’m just trying to help!” 

 

“Then stay put!” Dalla orders and releases one arm from his legs to open the storeroom door. It’s the kind that swings on a hinge, and that’s exactly the reason she chose it. 

 

“I’m not doing anything by staying put!” 

 

Dalla decides not to glorify that with an answer and instead lets go of Thias’ other leg and holds the door open for Ahsoka to muscle Thias into the room. As soon as he’s in and Ahsoka’s out, she shuts the door and jams a chair under the knob. 

 

Thias slams into it two seconds later. 

 

“It’s not going to work,” Ahsoka informs him. 

 

_ “Did you lock the door with your stupid chair again?”  _

 

Dalla throws up her hands. “Thias, I can’t babysit you. Not during a civil war, not with Saw running off on an insane mission.” 

 

“You  _ did!”  _ He shoves against the door again. “Let me out! Someone has to go save our family, if --.” 

 

Steela speedwalks around the corner. “What’s going on here? I heard shouting.” 

 

“Thias,” Ahsoka explains and shakes her head. 

 

“Steela, there aren’t any vents in there he can fit through, right?” Dalla pleads the answer’s no. 

 

Steela shakes her head but before she can say anything Thias starts up a new wave of shouting. “Saw’s the only one who’s actually  _ doing  _ things. Let me go with him!  _ Let me go with him, so I can make Sanjay Rash pay for what he did!”  _

 

Steela closes her eyes and starts walking for the briefing room. “He’s not getting out of there,” she says as she walks past Ahsoka and Dalla. “I’m going to … strategize, or something. I can’t do the yelling right now. I just need to be alone for a while.

 

When the next wave comes from Thias, Dalla doesn’t hear it. Instead of responding she looks at the chronometer in despair. 

 

It’s not even noon, and already she feels like she needs a freaking drink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading! There’s a new topic up in the forum. Go ahead and check it out, or leave a review, or both!


	38. Catch and Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now the thrilling con… well it's not really a conclusion. Some of this stuff won't be fully resolved until LS and I write the sequel. But for now, the thrilling continuation of the piratical adventures of Onderon's northern sea. ~ DK

_ “Sail in the light of the salt gods. _

 

_ Sail by their will. _

 

_ May they bring you home against all odds. _

 

_ Sail by their will.  _

 

_ Let them guide you on your way. _

 

_ They shall bring you home to stay. _

 

_ Those who’ve gone to them all say:  _

 

_ ‘Sail by, sail by, sail by their will.” _

 

Shara listened carefully as Lana and Maris finished their song. It was a simple, pretty melody. She was already working out the third harmony part in her mind and she was sure she’d have it memorized after she heard it a few more times. For now though, she listened while Maris and Lana sang. It was doing wonders for both of their nerves, what with Marlon and Ness both being out hunting the Bralykburns. 

 

“What time is it?” Maris asked after they’d finished the last refrain. 

 

Lana checked the chronometer. “Second watch is starting soon.” 

 

The waitress sighed and stood up. “I’ve got to go. They’ll need me for the dinner rush over at the pub, and we’re expectin’ a healthy crowd wantin’ drinks.” 

 

“Alright, have a nice evening.” Lana smiled thinly at their friend. “Thank you for coming over. It was good to see you.” 

 

“It’s good to see you too, Lana.” Maris hugged her and then Shara. “I’ll keep your Jamos in my prayers tonight,” she whispered. 

 

“And I’ll do the same for Ness,” Shara promised. “If they comm, I’ll let you know as soon as I can.” 

 

“Thank you, Shar. An’ if Ness comms the pub, I’ll patch you in. Shouldn’t be hard.” 

 

“I’d appreciate that very much.” 

 

The chrono chimed and Maris hurried out of the room to the pub, leaving Lana and Shara alone to stare out at the sea.

 

Lana sighed. “I just wish they'd comm.”

 

“I'm sure they will soon. We should just assume no news is good news. Lana, they're smart. I'm sure they have the situation under control and they'll be just fine.”

 

But Lana was not to be pacified. The woman who was normally a tower of calm and stability was losing it, fast. “You didn't see what I did, Shara. Hugo with that harpoon ... he was crazed! Marlon thinks he's dealing with the rational but Hugo's a -- a madman!” 

 

Shara wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Marlon could handle the Rashes. I'm sure he can handle this. And he'd do anything to get home to you.”

 

Lana bit back a sob. “I don't care about me. I just want him to be there for his children.”

 

Shara pulled back. “Children?” she repeated. “Did you just say children? As in plural?”

 

Lana smiled sadly. “I thought I might be before they left but I didn't want to say. Now I'm sure of it and…” She wiped her eyes. “Salt gods, Shara, I can't do this without him!”

 

Shara hugged her. “You won't have to. I'm sure they're fine and they'll be back in no time. Why don't we go back to the comm room and try giving them a comm?”

 

Lana nodded. “Aye, we can do that. Maybe they’ll answer this time.”

 

“We’ll never know unless we try.” She started to lead Lana back and then something caught her eye out on the waves through the window. It almost looked like a ship. But no one was scheduled to return to the Hold now; every currently sailing ship was out looking for Hugo Bralykburn. 

 

Shara blinked and looked again, but whatever it was had disappeared. 

 

_ I must be making it up,  _ she reasoned. She was so anxious for the men to come home that she was hallucinating the  _ Alon’s Hand  _ coming back into harbor. 

 

Shara shook her head and put the image out of her mind. 

 

…

 

“ _ Drexl Wing _ hasn't seen sail nor stern of the Bralykburns.” Jamos made a check on his datapad and looked to see who was next on his list to comm.

 

“No sightings from  _ Wave Sabre _ either.” Glover called back from where he stood at the Harkon Hall holo table. 

 

Marlon had a list of his own and was using his personal comm unit as Jamos was across the room. He was having similar luck.

 

“You sure this is the schedule Hugo got a hold of?” Glover asked even as he entered in the ID next  on his list. 

 

“Damn sure.” Jamos growled, and then swallowed guiltily at the sound of a child's voice.

 

“Is Talia alright?” Ephraim asked poking his head into the comm room. 

 

A second later his twin was beside him. “And Noodle?” asked Elinor. 

 

Glover went over and knelt before them patiently. “I'm sure Talia and her cog are just fine.” 

 

“I'm sorry.” Adria ran in with Miranda in her arms. “They heard the name Bralykburn and got curious.”

 

Jamos smiled indulgently at the twins and was glad again that they had decided to bring Colin home first thing before sailing out blindly in their search. “I doubt even Hugo would have brought his little girl out on a voyage like this one. She's probably safe at home back at the Keep.”

 

“Maybe Hugo went straight back there?” Marlon considered.

 

“Could be he just wanted to run us ragged, thinking that he was planning another attack.” Jamos mused.

 

The twins were looking at him wide eyed and Adria attempted to usher them out. “Come on, Loves. You can have an extra holo before bed.”  She called back over her shoulder. “Marlon, when you talk to Lana tell her I'm here if she needs anything.”

 

Something about that caught Marlon the wrong way. “You mean you haven't commed to tell her that yourself?”

 

Adria stopped to answer him. “I tried but I couldn't get through. I thought maybe she was on with you or Shara was on the line with Jamos, or that they were just trying to keep the line open for news.”

 

The brothers gave each other a worried look. 

 

“Did you comm…”

 

“Have you heard from…” 

 

And then they were both frantically entering in the IDs that were the closest to each his own heart. Both personal comms came back unable to connect. 

 

Glover jumped back as Marlon and Jamos both hurried to the holo table to see if they could connect from there. They tried the Blackhold public line and the private office codes. Then they tried the dock and the pub. 

 

Jamos suggested. “I'll find Ness. See when he last contacted Maris.” But they were all sure that the answer would be the same. 

 

“This isn't right.” Marlon shook his head. 

 

“I hate to even suggest this but, I think Hugo may have figured the same as you, Jay.” Glover worried.

 

“Wait. Same as me? What?”

 

Marlon caught on. “You said that Hugo would have left his daughter safe at home back at the Keep. She's the most precious thing he's got. He wouldn't dare bring her into danger if he could help it.”

 

Glover picked up the hypothesis. “And once he'd taken the  _ Siren's Call _ and knew the  _ Polaris _ wasn't on it's scheduled run…”

 

“He'd know I'd never bring Shara and the  _ Polaris _ out to chase after him.” Jamos fell back into a chair. “So he's gone after them where we thought they would be the safest. Kriff him to bloody Dxun!”

 

“Now we don't know that for sure.” Glover raised his hands in submission and glanced down the hall hoping that Adria had the twins well away so that they didn't hear the outburst. 

 

Jamos was up on his feet again gathering his things to run for the ship. “But it's the most likely answer! This comm silence can not be a coincidence.”

 

Marlon was also on the move. “Thank you, Glove, for all your help.” 

 

“Kriffed if you think I'm gonna stay behind and miss all the fireworks.” Glover Harkon smiled in anticipation of the hunt and followed behind them. “My fleet is ready in the harbor to follow at your command, my friend.” He clapped Marlon on the back.

 

“Again, thank you.” Marlon nodded as they ran a few steps behind Jamos who seemed to have been lent a supernatural speed from the salt gods at the very idea that his girl might be in danger. Marlon was sure it was Shara and not the ship that his brother raced towards now. But he had his own reasons to forge ahead. Salt gods only knew if Bralykburn would bother to spare Lana and Dalla if they got in his way.

 

…

 

“Lana!” Shara hated to worry her friend any more than she already was, but if her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, then Lana had to know. “Lana, out on the horizon. That’s a ship! But Jamos and Marlon aren’t supposed to be back for days.” 

 

Lana made her way over to the window and shielded her eyes to see better. 

 

“Is it one of ours?” Shara asked. “Maybe they’ll have news about Marlon and Jamos.”

 

No sooner had she said that than Lana snapped back from the window and raced over to a hardline on the wall. Shara had seen it before, in the comm room and in Marlon’s and Jamos’ offices. They’d used it to contact the watchtowers and those manning Blackhold’s walls. 

 

“Close the gate!” She ordered whoever was on the other end. “The  _ Dxun’s Fang  _ is approaching harbor. Do not, under any circumstances, allow them entry!”

 

Shara's stomach sank. “Lana, whose ship is that?” The very name gave her chills. 

 

Lana hung up the hardline. “She’s Hugo Bralykburn’s flagship.”  

 

Shara froze. “Hugo Bralykburn’s flagship?” Suddenly the lack of comms from the men or any of the other houses made sense. “What could he want here?”  _ Oh, besides our stores of catches?  _

 

Lana searched the room for Dalla and then swooped the little girl up. “Come with me. We’re going to Marlon’s office.”  

 

Shara followed her friend into Marlon’s office and then watched as Lana shut the door, locked it, and shot the bolt. That more than anything got her attention; Marlon almost never bolted the door. 

 

“This is the safest room in the Hold,” Lana explained. “The walls and door are fortified. Marlon told me when I moved in that if we were ever in danger, to go here.” 

 

Shara made sure Dalla was distracted with a stylus off Marlon’s desk before she whispered to Lana: “You closed the gate. The Hold is built to resist siege; I’m sure we’ll be fine here.” 

 

“I’m not taking any chances,” Lana replied. “You don’t know Hugo, Shara. He’ll chip through the gate with a toothpick if he has to. And when he does, if no one comes, you have to get out of here with Dalla.” 

 

Shara blinked. “What?” 

 

“Take her to Harkon Hall, or Flint Locke, or Iziz. I don’t care, just don’t let him take her.” Lana swallowed hard but managed to control her voice so she wouldn’t scare her daughter. “If that happens I’ll hold him off as long as I can, but you have to be fast.”

 

“No. Lana, you’re pregnant. You have another little one to worry about.” Shara took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You get out with your children; I’ll stay back and hold off Bralykburn. And that is final!” 

 

Lana sat back in a chair. “I'm so worried, if he got ahold of her...if by some blessing he didn't hurt her, he could make Marlon do whatever he wanted.” 

 

What did Hugo Bralykburn want? Shara wracked her mind. If she could figure that out, then maybe she could find some way to pacify the pirate before he could hurt someone else. He was after the catches for sure, but there were easier targets than the Hold. No, he had to be after something specific, something he couldn't get anywhere else. But what could that be? There were catches everywhere on the high seas, and ships along with them. The only thing the Hold had that they didn't were... _ the people. _

 

Realization broke over Shara like a cold wave. That's what Hugo was after: not catches, but hostages. She may never have met the man, but Jamos had all but confirmed that Hugo still held her responsible for his family’s death last year. 

 

“He wants me!” She whispered to herself.

 

“What was that?” Lana asked, looking up from the shapes and colors game she had been showing Dalla on the datapad to keep the toddler busy.

 

“Nothing.” Shara smiled, convincingly, she hoped. She was glad that Lana didn't question her further. She would keep the knowledge to herself until she could think of what to do with it.

 

After four hours with still no news from the long range comm and only periodic updates from the hardline, telling them that the  _ Dxun's Fang  _ was still circling them like a hungry chirn, Lana finally gave into her early pregnancy exhaustion and fell asleep in the chair with Dalla curled up, napping on her lap.

 

Shara knew this was her chance. She touched her friend's shoulder in a silent goodbye and kissed her goddaughter's forehead. Then she as quietly as possible drew back the bolt on the door. The click seemed loud in the other wise silent room but Lana only stirred in her sleep and pulled Dalla a little tighter to herself. 

 

She touched the mechanism to make sure it would lock again behind her and then slipped out into the hallway. “As the salt gods will,” she whispered touching her thumb to her lips. “Keep them safe.” Then she was off down the hall at a run before she could second guess herself.

 

Hugo Bralykburn wanted Shara. That much was clear. Well she would give him what he wanted and then, she prayed, he would leave everyone else alone. 

 

“I'm sorry Jamos.” She cried once she was out of doors and hurrying on towards the dock.  _ I'm sorry for bringing this on your family and your people. I'm sorry that we can't be together. We must just be starcrossed, first Sanjay and now this, but I won't let him hurt you any longer _ .

 

When she reached the harbor, Shara was sure she would see the pirate ship bombarding the gate. She hadn't thought out how she would announce her surrender and stop the attack. But instead she saw… it couldn't be.

 

_ Dxun's Fang _ had backed away from the gate and there were four, no five ships sailing up fast from the West. The one in the lead was unmistakably _ Alon's Hand _ with its Blackwell blue banner flying proudly. The other ships were flying Harkon pink. Shara drew up her skirt so she could run faster and took the tower stairs two at a time to reach the top. 

 

She knew they probably couldn't see her. They probably weren't even looking this direction. They would be too focused on their pursuit of the pirate. She didn't care. She waved anyway and yelled out in wordless gratitude and relief. 

 

Then she looked and saw that Maris had come up beside her. The two women hugged and danced for joy. “We have to tell Lana! We're saved! By the grace of the salt gods, we're saved!”

 

… 

 

Hugo kicked himself and checked once more that the  _ Alon’s Hand  _ wasn’t gaining on  _ Dxun’s Fang.  _ Everything had been going beautifully, until his navigator had announced an incoming ship and he saw the Blackwells and the Harkons coming straight at them. 

 

From then all he could do was order his crew to turn around and head east. There was nowhere else to go. He certainly couldn’t stay at Blackhold. And if he went north or west he’d run straight into the jaws of the Harkons and their vassals, who’d only be too happy to join Lord Glover on his chase. Kriff him! Hugo had thought him a good, decent man when he sheltered him and Talia last year. He’d sat there and listened to Hugo rage, and done magic tricks for Talia to get her mind off things. But of course he’d gone back to kissing up to that so-called Lord and the rest of House Blackwell. Kriff him! Kriff the lot of them!   

 

Instead they were headed straight for the Keep, where Hugo’s daughter was probably having her afternoon snack before she watched her favorite holo program. What he wouldn't give to be the one fixing the snack for her and then telling her when to switch off the holo. He'd gone pirate on his own volition, to even the scores after that southern witch left his family to the waves, but that didn't mean he didn't miss his daughter something fierce. 

 

He thought she would be safe at the Keep; she was certainly better off there than on the  _ Dxun’s Fang  _ with this blood hungry crew. But he'd never dreamed of the fight coming to his own doorstep. All he could do was hope that the men chasing him had scruples enough not to hurt a child. 

 

Hugo did. He hadn't meant for the captured midshipman to lose an eye and he'd ordered him all the treatment he needed. He hadn't left so much a scratch on the cabin boy. And the most he would have done to Marlon’s spawn was stick her in her crib if she got in the way.  _ Salt gods, spare my girl. She didn't do nothing.  _

 

“My lord Captain!” The navigator called. “We’re comin’ up to the Keep.”

 

“Put into harbor,” Hugo ordered. This wasn't over yet. He still had thirty Blackwell crew members in his dungeon. If he was careful, if he played his cards right, then he might be able to weasel out of this one yet.

 

…

 

“Papa, you're home!” Talia ran down the stairs into the great hall of the Keep. 

 

“There's my girl!” He hugged her to himself protectively. 

 

“Who are all those men coming off those ships in the harbor? Are they here to get the boy who was hurt? He screamed a lot when he first got here but he's doing better now. I brought Noodle up to see him and he said he was a midshipman just like…” she stopped, knowing talking about her brother would just make her Papa sad.

 

“I'm glad you've been treating our guest kindly Talia.” Sure enough there were tears in his eyes that he blinked away. “Right now Papa needs you to go up to your room and stay there. Do you hear me? Papa needs to have a meeting with the men from those ships.”

 

The little girl frowned. “I thought we might have supper together tonight since you just got back home.” 

 

“I would like that, just gotta take care of a little business. I'll have your supper sent up to your room and if I can get away I'll come and read you a story later on.”

 

That seemed to remind her of something and she perked up. “The banners on some of the ships looked like Ellie and Effrie’s. Did Mr. Glover bring them along?”

 

“Not- not this time. Maybe we'll see about a visit with the twins another time.” How could he tell her he'd probably burned that bridge for good?

 

Hugo’s steward stood ready for his instructions involving the guests arriving at their dock.

 

“Alright, Papa.” She kissed his cheek. “Promise you'll come and tuck me in?”

 

“I promise.” He hoped he could keep it.

 

… 

 

The steward had the room prepared for the negotiations when they arrived. Hugo's seat was of course up on a dais to assert his importance as Lord of Bralyk Keep. 

 

Jamos paced before his own chair, too agitated to sit. 

 

His brother laid a hand on his arm. “Just sit so we can get this over with.” 

 

Jamos huffed as he complied, “How do we even know if he's got the hostages? Maybe he's killed them already…”

  
“The hostages are fine,” said Hugo, clearly enjoying lording it over them all. “Bring the boy so we can show them.”

  
The boy who was led into the proceedings, hardly did anything to reassure the gathered assembly. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old and had a bandage wrapped around his head and covering one eye from which wafted the sweet smell of bacta. He swayed a bit as he walked. 

 

“Do you recognize him?” Marlon whispered to his brother. 

 

Jamos gritted his teeth. “Don’t remember his first name but he was Eva’s nephew, serving has her midshipman.”

 

“Midshipman Murphy?” Marlon addressed the boy. 

 

The boy nodded. “Aye sir.”

 

“Tell the Lord how you’ve been treated since you arrived here at the Keep.” Hugo instructed, not exactly unkindly, though it was hard to tell with Hugo.

 

“I've been treated very well.” The boy slurred his words. “He gave me medicine and the healer has hardly left my side.”

  
Jamos jumped up and pointed. “This kid’s been drugged!”

  
Hugo huffed. “Well, what did you want me to do just let him scream? He was unfortunately injured in the fray and had to be given a stim for the pain.”

 

“Injured in the fray that you started!” Jamos was pulled back down into his seat.

  
Marlon attempted to keep his own temper. “While it is, I suppose, admirable that you saw to the boy’s treatment, it is difficult for us to judge from the testimony of someone who may not be thinking clearly.”   
  


“Alright fine.” Hugo rolled his eyes and then smiled. “Bring out Dalla.”

 

“Dalla?” Glover Harkon asked, looking over at Marlon to make sure he was okay.

  
“Its uh... it's a very common name.” Marlon tried not to show how much the name rattled him. 

  
A young girl of about sixteen years was led before them and she gave Marlon a polite nod. “My lord.”

  
Glover took over questioning to give his friend a chance to breathe. “We would like to know how you have been treated since you were brought here.”

  
“It's not a 5 star inn but no one has hurt us,” the girl answered. “We've been given food and drink.”

  
Jamos spoke up, “What about the midshipman,  Captian Eva's nephew? How was he hurt?”

  
Dalla looked like she really didn't want to remember that part. “It was all confusion when the boarding party... The midshipman, trying to prove himself, maybe trying to protect his aunt, killed one of theirs and then that man's brother went after him. Lord Bralykburn yelled for him not to. Said he was just a kid. And then... after it happened Bralykburn killed his own man.”

  
Glover asked, “Hugo killed the man who injured the midshipman?”

  
“Th-that's right.” Dalla nodded. “I saw it happen.”

  
Jamos leaned over to his brother. “She could have been coerced, threatened to say that before we arrived.”

 

Hugo said defensively, “I would never hurt a kid!”

 

Marlon looked over to Glover who had spent the most time with Hugo and Glover nodded in reluctant agreement. 

 

Marlon took a deep breath. “I don't think the girl is lying.”

 

Jamos interrupted, “Marl!”

 

Marlon held up a hand to silence him. “She told us what she saw…”

 

“Hah!” Hugo asserted.

 

“...or what she thought she saw.” Marlon finished.

 

Hugo slammed his hands down on the table in front of him and growled.

 

Marlon went on with his verdict. “The fact remains that because of your decision to go after that ship seven lives were lost.”

 

Jamos added, “And a child was maimed!”

 

Hugo glared at Jamos. “Never would have happened if the right ship was on that run!”

 

Jamos exploded from his chair. “So this is my fault for changing the schedule?”

 

Hugo enjoyed getting a rise out of the younger Blackwell. “Your witch tell you it would be safer for you to sit this one out?”

 

“Why you….” Jamos had to be restrained by Glover and Marlon. “Wasn't enough for you though was it? Had to go after the bigger prize? How many would have died if you broke through Blackhold’s gates before we got there?”

 

“Well I didn't, did I?” Hugo fired back.

 

Glover spoke evenly. “This isn't about what he would have done, Jay.”

 

“Isn't it?” Jamos asked, incensed. “What's to say he won't try it again?”

 

Marlon picked back up the objective. “That's what we need to have assurance of. How do we know this won't happen again?”

 

Hugo shrugged. “You can have your people back.” He gestured to the steward to fetch the other captives from the dungeon.

 

Jamos scoffed. “To make room for you to imprison another catch?”

 

“Jamos!” Marlon gave him a ‘let me handle this’ glare even though he didn't know quite what to do.

 

Glover leaned over and whispered in Marlon's ear. 

 

Marlon nodded uncomfortably before he spoke. “We require more than just the return of the captives as reassurance.” He took a deep breath to steel himself. “Your actions in this matter, Lord Bralykburn, and the fact that your wife is no longer living, lead us to question your suitability to parent your little girl.”

 

“What!” Hugo nearly screamed.

 

Marlon continued, his voice becoming stronger, “If you would agree to let Talia come to be fostered at Blackhold…”

 

“No!” Hugo broke down pitifully. “Not my baby! She's all I've got left in the Galaxy! Take my ships! Take the Keep! Just don't take my girl!” He wept and pleaded for the ruling to be changed.

 

…

 

Lana and Shara both listened intently while Marlon filled them in on the details of the negotiations over the now restored comm system. Technically he had only commed to speak to Lana but Shara stood just outside of the holo field, every bit as eager to hear the news.

 

Lana's asked, “You didn't actually take the man's child?”

  
“No.” Marlon assured her. “Both Glover and I agreed that he seemed completely sincere when we suggested it. Both of us having daughters that we couldn't bear to part with.”

  
Jamos shouted something off cam about it being a stupid idea and that Hugo would never change.

  
“We're not just going to leave Hugo to his own devices.” Marlon told both his brother and his wife at the same time. “He'll be sort of on house arrest for the for the next five years.”

  
Lana told Marlon she was proud of him.

  
“Well,” he said. “It will be good to be home.” And with that and 'I love you’s and the wish for a quick and safe journey they ended the comm.

  
“You didn't tell him yet?” Shara was surprised.

  
“Plenty of time for that.” Lana smiled. “They're coming home!!!”

 

… 

 

Shara stood back and watched as Ness ran down the gangplank to his wife picked her up and swung her around. “I was so worried when I couldn't get a comm through and then we heard that Bralykburn was storming the Hold, and we saw you on the wall.”

 

“You did see us on the wall, then?” Maris asked, her smile a klik wide. “I saw Shara run past and I followed her to see what she was up to, and then we saw you all comin’ to our rescue!”

 

“And just what exactly were you doing up on that wall in the middle of a siege?” Shara turned to see Jamos marching towards her.

 

Before she could answer Maris was singing her praises. “Shara was going to give herself up to protect the rest of us. She figured it was her the pirate really wanted after last year's storm…”

 

Jamos continued his advance, almost as if he and Shara were magnetized. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

 

Shara stood up to him. “I will always serve the Hold.”

 

They gazed at each other, tension building, until even a handful of centimeters was too great a separation. “I love you, Jamos,” she breathed as they closed the final distance and kissed.

 

He grinned triumphantly at hearing her finally say the words. “I love you! This does mean you'll marry me, right?"

 

She smiled back at him but before she could respond they heard a huge whoop of excitement and turned around to see that Marlon had lifted both his wife and daughter and was spinning them around.

 

Jamos asked, "Do you know what that’s all about?”

 

Shara smirked. "I guess she just told him that Dalla is going to be a big sister." 

 

The two of them along with Ness and Maris and the rest of the crew gathered around to congratulate the Lord and Lady of the North.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering Jamos and Shara are visually inspired by Aramis and Queen Anne from the BBC Musketeers. That last scene in particular is reminiscent of season 2 episode 4. Love those two! Also love your reviews so please drop us a line and thank you so much for reading!


	39. Most Important Meal of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saw’s ill-advised rescue mission ends in disaster both for him and for the other players, while Sanjay “treats” Kason to a midnight meal. - LS

It’s pretty clear Steela sent someone after him. Dono’s a good scout, yeah, but she’s no Werda Flint. Saw spots her shadow out of the corner of his eye a few times, but he doesn’t stop her. Why would he? Dono’s not trying to stop him, and she might even help once she sees him go in to rescue their true king. 

 

He comes up to the palace walls, waiting for a droid sentry to pass before he goes to give himself the largest possible window of time. Then with one last look behind him to see if Dono’s going to join the party, he fires a grappling hook to the top of the wall and pulls himself up. 

 

_ This is easy,  _ he thinks.  _ Why didn’t we do this sooner?  _

 

_ Lux and Steela,  _ he answers his own question.  _ They’re too cautious. Always working out plans and never putting any of them into action.  _ He thought Dalla was made of different stuff, but when it mattered she proved she was a lordling all along. 

 

But Lux, Dalla, and Steela aren’t here now. It’s just him, the palace, and the promise of returning home heroic and with the true king at his side. Heck, they’ll probably make him leader again when he does and with a hero’s welcome to boot. 

 

He reaches the top of the wall and finds himself above a small courtyard holding the palace’s gardens. He carefully descends from the wall to the roof of one of the outbuildings to wait. 

 

A battle droid stands guard as an old man with a beard and a fair-haired boy walk through the gardens.  _ The king! And the boy has to be Dalla and Thias’ cousin; who else would be in this gilded cage?  _

 

Saw looks down and waits until the droid turns its back, then jumps from his perch behind it. 

 

“Uh -- hey!” the clanker cries, but it’s too late. Saw rips its head off and tosses it aside. 

 

King Dendup pushes the young boy protectively behind him when Saw approaches and falls to his knees. 

 

“My lord,” he says, and bows his head. 

 

Dendup eyes him dubiously. “Who are you?” 

 

“I’m Saw Gerrera.” He lowers his hood so the king can see him better. 

 

But instead of celebrating, Dendup practically groans. “What do you want?” 

 

“Your freedom, sire! You’re to be executed tomorrow, but I’m getting you out of here. The people of Onderon need your help.”

 

“Stand up,” Dendup orders. “Are you one of the meddlers creating disorder, interfering with the affairs of the throne?” 

 

They sort of are, but Saw reasons that he also sort of got dragged into the great game. “Only to restore your kingship as the rightful ruler.” 

 

“I see,” he sighs. “This is my fault. I opened the door.”

 

They don't have time for this. As much as Saw would like to listen to a speech about politics and duty to the people and all that jazz, it's only a matter of time before another patrol comes. So he turns his attention to the kid. “Are you Kason Blackwell?”

 

“Why do you care?” The kid asks. 

 

“I care because your cousin is back at our base waiting for you.” 

 

“Dalla?” Kason’s eyes go wide. “She’s here? In Iziz?”

 

“Yeah, and Thias too. They’ll boil me alive if I don't bring you back to them safely.”

 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

 

Saw remembers something from the early throes of Thias and Dalla’s world-ending argument. “Do the words Chirn Bait mean anything to you?” 

 

They do. Kason straightens up and reaches out to the formerly despondent King. “Sire, we have to go. It might be our only chance!”

 

“Take the boy,” Dendup orders. “Kason, as soon as you get out of here, leave the city. Get on a boat and return to the north immediately.” 

 

“What about you?”

 

“I will stay here,” he says, “to atone for what I did to Onderon.”

 

“My lord, our movement  _ is  _ Onderon. We’re gaining momentum, working with the support of two Great Houses, and have the backing of the Jedi!” 

 

Dendup blinks. “Jedi?”

 

Finally, some leverage. “Yes, sire.”

 

The king walks back over to them. “I've been waiting a long time for this.”

 

“Follow me, Sire,” Saw says, taking Kason in one arm and his grappling hook in another. “Onderon awaits.” 

 

But it’s that exact moment where any luck he got from kissing Dalla decides to run out. His grappling hook collides into a plasma barrier and falls uselessly to the ground. 

 

“One-way shield!” he spits and the palace’s alarm system springs to life. 

 

Dendup pushes Kason away from them. “Kason, get in the greenhouse. You’ve been there the whole time and you saw nothing.” 

 

Kason races to obey but he doesn’t get the chance. Six destroyer droids roll up from either side and lock into battle positions. 

 

Saw and Dendup both grab Kason and hold him close, praying the destroyers won’t shoot the boy. When they hold their fire Saw glares up at the shield, the source of his misfortune. At least Dono will be able to run back to base and tell the others of his fate. 

 

_ Please Steela, don’t send a rescue mission. I’m going to do everything I can to protect you, and all the others too, but it’ll be for nothing if you throw it away like I did.  _

 

When the destroyers fire stun pulses, he does the one thing he can do: he pushes the king and Kason out of the way and roars wordlessly. Maybe he’s just loud enough Sanjay Rash can hear. 

 

…

 

The general who hauls him into the palace looks like he needs a freaking vacation. Or a freaking drink. Or both. Kason sticks his tongue out at the guy, so Saw’s willing to bet they don’t have the greatest history. 

 

“I thought you terrorists would be smarter than this,” he grunts. 

 

“General Tandin! What is the meaning of this?” 

 

Saw forces himself to turn his head to see Sanjay Rash come down a staircase with a Super Tactical Droid.  _ Oh, no. We didn't know about that… _

 

“There's been an intrusion, sire.” Tandin explains. “This terrorist apparently tried to rescue your predecessor.”

 

Saw lifts his gaze to meet Rash’s disgusted one and forces his signature cocky grin. 

 

“‘Sup?” He asks.

 

Rash scoffs but then sobers up. “Where are Dendup and Kason?” 

 

“They’re being taken back to their chambers. Speaking of which, I need to take this prisoner to the detention level.” 

 

“They were together? He was going to take them both?” 

 

“I can’t say for sure,” 

 

Rash gestures to the Super Tactical droid. “You and Kalani interrogate the terrorist. I’m going to have a chat with Kason Blackwell.” 

 

“I didn’t think you were awful enough to torture a kid, traitor!” Saw shouts. 

 

The general yanks him up on his wobbly legs. “You are talking to your king!” 

 

“I was,” Saw fires back. “Not anymore.” 

 

Sanjay Rash’s face screws up in anger. 

 

“Interrogate him well, generals,” he snaps and stalks off toward the courtyard presumably to get Kason.  __

 

The droids sweep Saw through the halls and into the bowels of the palace. While they’re walking General Tandin, the only organic there, says something to the tactical droid that he can’t hear, though he definitely hears the droid’s response. 

 

“My calculations say otherwise. And in light of your previous failure, the same strategy would be imprudent.” 

 

“That was a delicate mission. I was ordered not to harm the target and I structured my actions around that order.” 

 

“And you failed,” the droid reminds him. “In situations like this one, harming hostiles is necessary to ensure victory.” 

 

Saw really doesn’t like the sound of that, and he doesn’t like the looks of the room they haul him into. Containment fields are never a good part of someone’s day. 

 

_ Just breathe,  _ he orders himself.  _ Breathe and give ‘em a piece of your mind. You can make this just as miserable for them as it is for you.  _

 

“So,” he says as the battle droids heft him into the field and then leave the room. “Do you ask the questions first or do you try to scare me?”

 

The tactical droid nods to one standing at a control panel, and every nerve in Saw’s body screams alive. 

 

“AUGH!” Saw never thought electricity could hurt so much. The second the droid switches on the containment field he forgets every strategy and smart remark. The only thought he can muster is  _ make it stop. _

 

An indiscriminate amount of time later the machine powers down and the tactical droid waits for him to catch his breath. 

 

“Where are the other terrorists?” It asks. 

 

Saw summons his courage. “Onderon...is our system! Not yours!”

 

The droid gestures for the interrogator to turn on the machine. 

 

Saw screams until his throat goes raw, his muscles twitching beyond his control. He's on fire, he's burning alive -- and then he's sure of it, sure as he is of anything, that he's going to die. He's going to die here, forever remembered as  _ that idiot who tried to break out the king and epically failed.  _

 

“Enough!”

 

The machine powers down and Saw hangs listlessly by his wrists. 

 

“We have to keep him alive,” Tandin urges. “He is a direct link to the terrorists.”

 

“You pity him,” the droid accuses. 

 

“I pity your ignorance. You have strong tactics, but it's unfortunate you cannot calculate a different approach.”

 

The droid sees right through it. “Your compassion will be your downfall, General Tandin.” 

 

“Your brutality will be yours,” Tandin shoots back. “Bring the terrorist into the interview room and leave us.”

 

…

 

General Tandin probably said something before he made Saw drink a mystery beverage, but he didn't hear it. Whatever’s in that cup works miracles; it soothes his poor throat and clears the cobwebs from his head. 

 

“Do I have to tip you?” he asks once he finishes the miracle drink. 

 

“I thought you’d depleted your arrogance with Kalani,” Tandin sighs. 

 

“Ha! It replenishes every hour.”   

 

Tandin must desperately wish he'd began at the end of the hour. “King Rash is the crowned head of Onderon,” he argues. “What’s yours is his, and he will do with it what he pleases.”

 

“Dendup is the true king! He never stepped on any of our families’ freedoms.”

 

“Are you following his orders?”

 

“We take orders from no one.”

 

“Not even the families you mention? Are you working with House Kira?”

 

“House Kira?” Saw laughs. “It's a miracle if anyone but a dalgos or a ruping worked with House Kira!” 

 

“What about House Blackwell? Are you involved with them?

 

Uh...does kissing the Lady of the North count as being involved with House Blackwell? “Northerners in southern politics? Give me a break.” 

 

The general looks over his shoulder and then leans forward. “How deeply are you involved with the Blackwells?” He whispers.

 

“I told you, we're not!”

 

“Young man, you are a terrible liar. Keep your voice down and tell me: how are you working with the Blackwells? It's very important I know.”

 

It probably is important he knows. So he can force Lord Blackwell to his knees and drag Dalla into Rash’s bedchamber. “You hard of hearing or something? We aren't working with them!” 

 

Tandin gives up. “Aligning yourself with the past doesn't bode well for your future.”

 

“We share the same future! We can sit here as free men or servants of the Separatists.”

 

Tandin slams his fist on the table.  _ “I  _ am free, while  _ you  _ have chosen to become a terrorist!”

 

“I'm not a terrorist! I'm a patriot! And resistance is  _ not  _ terrorism.” 

 

General Tandin stands up. “There's more than one path to resistance.”

 

“Well no one's using any of the others,” Saw snaps. “The Separatists have taken over Onderon because we let them.” 

 

...

 

“It’s not breakfast time.”

 

Sanjay just can't win with Kason. Forget that he’s offering him an opulent breakfast.  _ No,  _ it's  _ not breakfast time.  _

 

“Have you never had breakfast for dinner?” 

 

“Momma says we have breakfast for breakfast, lunch for lunch, and dinner for dinner.”

 

“Well your mother isn't here, so we don't have to follow her rules.” 

 

“I don't want your breakfast.”

 

Sanjay would just repeat his threat to spoon feed him the meal, but he has more leverage this time. “If you eat with me, then the terrorist in the dungeon gets to eat today.”

 

Kason glares and sits at the table. Sanjay pushes the boy’s plate up to him and hands him a fork. Kason looks as if he's seriously considering stabbing him with it, but instead he spears his eggs and sticks a bite in his mouth. 

 

“They’re very good,” Sanjay takes his own seat. “I always found a good meal comforting after a rough day. You certainly had a scare with that terrorist.”

 

“That guy was the best person I met here in Iziz. Except Dendup, of course.”

 

Sanjay ignores the slight. “Did he understand he was talking to a lordling?” Kason could sure use a lesson in that…

 

“I was with the king he came to save. He was going to take me too.” 

 

“But do you think he knew who you were?” 

 

Kason’s lip curls a little. “How could he know who I am since you have me in all this red?” 

 

“I think you look very nice in it.” He still remembers Kason’s squawks when the service droids stole his fishing leathers while he was in the shower. He certainly wasn’t happy to find the red clothes in their place. But red clothes or not, all Sanjay needs is that little lip curl. The terrorist definitely knew who Kason was. The question now is what he had to gain from this. 

 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Kason slurping muja juice out of a mug. A mug with an extremely unflattering caricature of Sanjay on it. 

 

How that thing even got in the palace Sanjay doesn’t know. Over the last few days, packages from a HoloNet retailer have been delivered in his name, all containing gag gifts -- toilet paper with Sanjay’s face on it, a holder for said toilet paper shaped like a snake with his head, multiple unflattering mugs like the one Kason has, and finally, the package that confirmed the sender’s identity: a referee’s whistle with instructions to give it to Dendup. 

 

_ “You won’t go anywhere near her. If you do I will fight you here or I’ll fight you in the north! I will fight you on the very steps of the palace with Dendup as referee!” _

 

He remembers Lana Blackwell shouting after him like it was yesterday. 

 

“This is my favorite mug,” Kason proclaims and takes a huge bite of his breakfast. 

 

“Of that I have no doubt. Your family sent it.” He takes a bite of fruit to help compose himself and give himself time to come up with a good question. “Which family member do you think sent it?” 

 

“Emoth.” 

 

“Not Dalla? I thought she’d be the one to send me insulting gifts.”

 

“Only Emoth would have such good taste in mugs.” 

 

There it is: he’s changing the subject when Sanjay mentions Dalla. There has to be something there. “Tell me more about your cousin. I’m going to be married to her; I should like to know a little about her.” 

 

“She hates serpents,” Kason says. “We all hate serpents. One time my dad was taking a shipment down to Iziz and I was with him, and a sea snake came up to our vessel. Dad grabbed it and --.” 

 

Sanjay goes in for the kill. “Why do you keep changing the subject whenever I mention Dalla?” 

 

Kason swallows hard. “Because you’re creepy. And none of us want you talking about her.” 

 

“Really? It seems like more than that.” It hits him. “Why are you afraid for your cousin?” 

 

“Because of you!” he blurts. “You want to hurt her, just like you hurt my mom!” 

Normally that would be enough to blow Sanjay’s top but he’s focused on other things. “You were perfectly fine talking about her earlier when you were making threats. What’s changed?” 

 

Kason’s mouth snaps shut and he crosses his arms over his chest in defiance. 

 

“Have you received any kind of communication from your family?” Nothing from Kason, so he moves on to the more likely possibility. “Did the terrorist tell you something?” 

 

There, the tiniest twitch at the corners of his mouth. Sanjay’s mother always told him that truth came not from what came out of a person’s mouth, but the way it moved. 

 

“What did he say?”

 

Kason shakes his head, whether it’s to deny Sanjay’s request or the fact the terrorist said anything remains to be said. 

 

“Is what the terrorist said the reason you’re afraid for Dalla?” 

 

To his credit, Kason tries his best to stay absolutely still. He steels his body and tries to keep his face perfectly neutral. But there are some reactions that are beyond anyone’s control. Yes, the terrorist is the reason for Kason’s fear. But how could an insolent young man have anything to do with the betrothal...and then Sanjay’s kicking himself for not figuring it out faster. 

 

“Dalla is in Iziz, isn’t she?” 

 

Kason unfreezes. “No.” 

 

That’s all the confirmation Sanjay needs. He gets up from the table and speaks to one of the guards. “Page the detention block and tell them I’m coming to speak to the terrorist.” 

 

Kason screams something without words and launches at him. A guard lunges forward and grabs him before he can make contact or grab something off the table to use as a weapon. 

 

With the boy subdued Sanjay approaches and touches the top of his fair head. “It’s alright, Kason. Once Dalla’s here this will all be over.”

 

_ “Leave my family alone!”  _ Kason screams. 

 

“She’ll be my family soon enough,” Sanjay pats Kason’s head. “And I promise, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll be gentle with my wife.”

 

…

 

Tandin’s miracle drink wore off about an hour ago, and Saw’s left in his cell to feel the effects of electric torture in all its glory. His muscles have never ached so badly in all his days. 

 

On the off chance there's someone outside who would actually listen to him, Saw sings a Kira pride song, about crushing one’s enemies under fambaas’ feet, outrunning them on dalgos’ backs, and rising above them on rupings’ wings. It doesn't have a big story behind it like the a Blackwell victory song he heard, which tells of a traitorous clan’s gory defeat at the hands of the northern navy. His is more generic, sung by almost every beast rider clan. It can't hurt anyone outside of his cell. His throat, on the other hand…

 

Ignoring his aching muscles, Saw forces himself to stand and drink from the grimy faucet. He stumbles back to the corner he designated his sleeping place and collapses into a heap. 

 

_ Rest.  _ He's going to need some of that to clear his head, to help him think up a plan for tomorrow’s execution. Saw’s just managed to find a semi-comfortable position when he hears footsteps approaching. He rolls his eyes when they stop in front of his cell. “What do you want, clanker?”

 

The voice that answers him definitely isn't mechanical. “You have something that belongs to me.” 

 

Saw cranes his head to behold the traitor Sanjay Rash himself standing in his cell door. He's flanked by Generals Kalani and Tandin, and two MagnaGuards stand in front of him with electrostaves activated. Kason’s in the background, looking defeated but unharmed. Thank gods. 

 

“What? Decent facial hair?” Saw retorts. 

 

Rash doesn't blink. “I know Dalla Blackwell’s in Iziz.”

 

_ Kriff!  _

 

“If you cooperate in bringing Lady Blackwell to her proper place, I may be convinced to show you mercy,” Rash announces. “Where is my wife?” 

 

There's no way Saw’s telling him, if only because Steela and Dalla are in the same place. That and he wouldn't wish marriage to Rash on his worst enemy. He has to throw him off the trail to protect them all, but how?

 

And then it comes to him: the oldest trick in the book for protecting women from unwanted advances, and an opportunity to stick it to Rash.

 

“Your wife? You mean  _ my  _ wife.” 

 

Rash nearly chokes. “What?”

 

“This is Dalla Blackwell we’re talking about, right? Brown hair, broken nose? With the little birthmark on her…” He tries not to smirk when he sees Rash turning bright red. “Yeah, she's my wife. We got married yesterday.” 

 

“Stop deluding yourself, boy,” Rash sniffs, though Saw’s thrown him off balance. “She’s betrothed to me. That makes your quote ‘marriage’ invalid.”

 

“Oh no, we checked all the boxes. We had a family blessing and a cloak and a binding cloth. You know betrothals aren’t legally binding until vows are said. And she actually  _ agreed  _ to do it. We’re more married than you’d ever be. She's not yours to mess with anymore.”

 

_ “I am the king!  _ I’ll do what I please with anyone I please.”

 

“You know, it's not a good time to be king. I've heard their reigns are getting cut short.”

 

Rash scowls at him. 

 

“Your marriage ends tomorrow.” 

 

“Good luck trying to get a perfectly legal marriage annulled. I’m not signing any papers, and I highly doubt she will.” 

 

“Until death do you part.” For a second nothing but evil flashes on Rash’s face. “You will be executed tomorrow along with Dendup. And then Lady Dalla will marry me with all of Iziz as our witness.” 

 

“You wish. My friends and my wife are smart. They’ll never fall for that.” 

 

“We’ll see,” Rash gives him a sardonic smile. “Don’t waste your last hours worrying about the other terrorists.  _ My  _ wife and I will see to them after our wedding.” 

 

Saw can only muster a barrage of curses to that and Rash leaves. A few seconds later the detention level door shuts and General Tandin races into Saw’s cell.

 

“Saw, listen to me,” he orders. “You need to tell me where your wife is.”

 

“Why, so you can haul her here? No way!” 

 

“No, you  _ fool!”  _ Tandin's run fresh out of patience. “Can't you see I'm trying to help you? I can't do anything for you now, but this isn't over for her. There's still time.” He composes himself. “Please, if you have any affection in your heart for Dalla, then let me help her. Don’t sentence her to a living death.” 

 

He sounds so sincere, like he actually cares about Saw and Dalla. But Saw knows good cop/bad cop games when he sees them.

 

“I love my wife,” he lies. “I'm not going to betray her.” Replace wife with sister and it’s the truth. 

 

“You don’t understand.” General Tandin pleads. “Didn’t Dalla tell you what happened on the docks at Blackhold? That was me. If you tell me where she is, I can get to her before Rash does. I can save her!”

 

Saw sets his jaw. “This is one sick game you’re playing,” he says. “But I’m not going to play it. I’m not selling out everyone I love to the Separatists.”  

 

“Saw, you’re making a terrible mistake.” 

 

“Maybe I am,” he admits. “But at least I can go to my grave with a clean conscience.”    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please everyone don’t hesitate to leave a review. DK and I would love to hear what you think of this rather drastic turn of events.


	40. Bali Ha'i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most people live on a lonely island,  
> Lost in the middle of a foggy sea.  
> Most people long for another island,  
> One where they know they will like to be.
> 
>  
> 
> Your own special hopes,  
> Your own special dreams,  
> Bloom on the hillside  
> And shine in the streams.  
> If you try, you'll find me  
> Where the sky meets the sea.  
> "Here am I your special island  
> Come to me, Come to me."
> 
>  
> 
> ~ DK
> 
> Okay not really. That was Oscar Hammerstein II. But the rest is DuchessKenobi’s continuing love story of Jamos and Shara. Enjoy!

“Marl, I'm gonna ask her.” Jamos fidgeted while he waited for Shara to finish packing and bring her bag out to the dock where the little sail boat waited for their trip.

 

His older brother laughed. “And how is this different from the… how many times have you asked her to marry you now?”

 

“Four? No five. But it's official this time. I got…” he started patting his pockets in an effort to remember where he put it.

 

“Well, that's reassuring considering the place you're taking her on this little fishing trip is basically a honeymoon cottage.” 

 

“It's the best place for the sport fishing I want to show her.” Jamos was getting increasingly more agitated as he continued to search. “And I explained to her about the cabin. Told her she could have the bedroom and I would sleep out on the couch.” He breathed a sigh of relief when his hand finally landed on a small velvet box which he pulled out to show his brother.

 

Marlon raised an eyebrow in trepidation. “You haven't been ordering presents of the holonet again?”

 

“No,” he grinned. “You're never going to let me live down that stupid fruit shirt are you?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Jamos opened the box. “I didn't think she'd want a traditional diamond so I went with something more organic.” Instead of a gemstone the ring boasted a pure white pearl in a rose gold setting. “What do you think? Think she'll like it?”

 

“I think you may have made up for the fruit shirt, little brother.” Marlon bopped him over the head. “But stow it. Here they come.”

 

Lana came first, absolutely glowing. Her pregnancy was beginning to really show now and her hand rested on her gently swelling abdomen with pride. She went to stand next to her husband but she grinned mischievously at her brother-in-law. “Got her all packed.”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jamos asked patting the box in his pocket once more to make sure that it was securely hidden.

 

“You'll just have to wait and see.” 

 

“See what?” Shara asked as she walked up to them with her bag slung over her shoulder.

 

Jamos gave Lana a bit of an annoyed scowl but the emotion wouldn't stick. “See that our boat is all ready. We can finally get away from these jokers.”

 

Shara looked seriously at the other woman. “Are you sure you'll be alright?”

 

“I have been through this once before.” Lana smiled but she didn't laugh at Shara's honest concern. “My morning sickness isn't nearly as bad now and I'm getting my energy back and I'll have another appointment with the midwife a few days after you get back. She said it would be fine for you to come and observe.”

 

A smile lit the younger woman's face. She'd been given charge of a mother dalgo when she was fifteen and delivered Sophia on her own when Edda had gone into labor herself. Of course that meant she had missed out being present at Sawyer's birth. Then she had been so focused on making a baby of her own that she had missed Steela's birth as well. 

 

Shara had no idea if Mel's baby had been born before the crash… 

 

“Go and have fun.” Lana told her, bringing her back to the present. 

 

“But not too much fun.” Marlon laughed, putting his arms around his wife and patting her belly. 

 

Shara blushed and her eyes turned to Jamos who was gazing at her. He reached out for her hand. “So you all ready to go?”

 

“Aye.” She nodded. It had been a remarkable realization, how wonderful it felt just to hold his hand. Of course she liked kissing him too. But just walking along or sitting next to him with their fingers woven together, she knew they were equals and best friends. They could accomplish anything together. “Let's go!”

 

…

 

“There.” Jamos pointed just a bit starboard of their bow, toward a spar of rock that was just visible on the horizon. Then he put his arm around her to help with the sail line she was perfectly capable of hauling on her own. 

 

Shara couldn't bring herself to mind much. “Looks like just a bare cliff face.” She observed, squinting at their supposed destination.

 

“It is from this side.” He wrapped the other arm around her as soon as the line was fixed and he was free to do so. “There's a small harbor round the lea side. Then from there, the cabin is just a short walk up the beach.” 

 

Everyone had told Shara how she was going to love the island and its tiny cabin. Honestly she wouldn't have minded just dropping anchor and staying on this boat alone with Jamos. The 5 meter keelboat really had everything they needed. They were even able to set the sensors to warn them of any approaching vessels and catch some sleep in the narrow bunks, hands clasped across the aisle between them. There was no danger of pirates coming upon them now and they had made sure to let Marlon know their course just in case a storm blew up suddenly so he would know their location.

 

No one else had been told but of course between Maris at the pub and Ness on some fishing voyage or other, the whole fleet likely already knew that the captain and his lady had gone away alone together for a few days of vacation.

 

As they came 'round the island and caught sight of the small sheltered bay and long dock, Jamos watched for her reaction. A ship as large as the Polaris couldn't have landed here but the keelboat glided gently into her mooring. Jamos jumped out onto the dock and tied them off and then reached out a hand to help her disembark.

 

“Well?” He asked. 

 

“I…” she began as she looked around but she still really didn't know what to expect. “It's a beautiful place. Is this where we fish, right off the dock?”

 

“Not exactly.” He grinned. “It's a surprise.”

 

“Alright.” She smiled back at him curiously as he led her inland up the path. “Well, will we be getting in the water? Do I need to change?”

 

“Aye.” He kicked himself mentally for not telling her this beforehand. “You can change at the cabin.” At least it sounded like she had prepared for that eventuality. 

 

“Good.” She grinned. “I have a surprise for you too.”

 

He stopped walking and marveled at her for a moment. She laughed and then they continued on. Around a bend in the path, a stone cottage came into view. It looked cozy, and home-like, the way she had come to think of the Hold, only on a miniature scale. Jamos continued to watch for her reaction. 

 

“How sweet.” Shara commented.

 

He breathed in relief glad that she liked it and even more that he could be there with her to enjoy it. “Just wait till you see the inside.”

 

When they reached it, he opened the door and ushered her in ahead of himself. 

 

The kitchen and living area were warm and open, decorated comfortably but not overly plush. There were two doors leading off the main room. These Jamos pointed out to her. “The one on the left is the 'fresher. The right is the bedroom. It's yours of course.”

 

Shara nodded. “Thank you.” Her mind seemed occupied but he couldn't really read her expression. Then after one more look around, she smiled at him. “I'll just go change.” She crossed the room to the door he had indicated and gave him one more grin before she closed herself into the bedroom.

 

Salt gods! What had he done to deserve being here in this place with that beautiful woman? Jamos practically ran to the ‘fresher door and threw on his own fishing leathers. Before he shoved the trousers he had removed back into his bag he took the ring case out of the pocket. He opened the box and then looked at himself in the mirror above the sink. 

 

“Shara.” He practiced to his own reflection. “Will you please do me the honor of being my wife? No, umm… I know I've asked you this before but I want to make it official. Please say you'll marry me… Please make me the happiest man in the Galaxy and…”

 

“Jamos? I'm ready.” She called from outer room.

 

A moment of doubt troubled him. What if she still wasn't ready? What if she thought he was only trying to get in her bed tonight? He shoved the ring box back into his bag with his clothes. He would see how things went with his surprise and then he would ask her when they got back to the cabin after. 

 

That decided, he opened the refresher door confidently and stepped out to behold the woman of his dreams. He had expected her to appear in the same fishing leathers that she always wore, the pair Lana had given her, but instead she was dressed altogether differently.

 

Shara gave him an inquiring expression. “It finally arrived. I was afraid after all that time waiting for it to ship, that it would be the wrong size. But, well…” she turned in a slow circle modeling the synthskin wetsuit she had ordered so many months ago, that night after Maris and Ness's wedding. To say the very least, it fit perfectly.

 

He was speechless and he swallowed hard before he managed, “It … fits.”

 

She blushed and lowered her eyes demurely. “Should we go fishing then?”

 

“Aye!” Jamos shook his head in attempt to break the spell her beauty had over him. “And that's a great surprise. I assume that is the surprise you wanted to show me? I mean I had nearly forgotten that you had ordered it.” He rambled.

 

“Aye.” She laughed. 

 

“And aye! We can go fishing now!” He took her hand and together they exited the cabin back out into the fresh air. It seemed to give him back his humor. “You know I might have to order you not to wear that in front of the crew.”

 

“Wearing it for fishing voyages is kind of the whole point.” She punched his arm playfully. 

 

He rubbed the spot as if she had greatly wounded him. “Well then, I'll have to order them not to look at you.”

 

“That might make it difficult for some of them to complete their duties.” 

 

The path continued behind the cabin in a steady but not too steep uphill climb. He stopped and she took a couple of steps ahead of him before she turned back to see him studying her. “I still think seeing you in that is going to be much too distracting.”

 

“You'll just have to assign happily married men as my rowers.” Shara was thinking of Ness who she knew only had eyes for Maris.

 

“Maybe I'll assign that task to myself.” He cut the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. 

 

“Which task would that be?” She grinned up at him.

 

“Hmm?” Jamos tilted his head inquisitively like a cog.

 

“My rower or a happily married man.” She pulled away from him and skipped further up the path singing a particularly risque line from the Captain's Lady about plunging the oar deep in the water. 

 

He chuckled and then ran past her, giving her ponytail a tug like a naughty schoolboy. She picked up her own speed to catch up with him but suddenly he was gone. He was running along the path one moment and the next he had completely disappeared. Shortly after she heard a distant splash and she screamed in alarm, racing forward to what she now saw was a cliff that descended at least six meters into a pool that was surrounded in a grotto that was open to the sky. 

 

Jamos's head emerged from the water. He shook droplets from his hair and his laugh echoed up to her.

 

“Don't ever do that again.” She glared down at him with her hands on her hips.

 

“There's a ladder if you want me to…”

 

But she didn't let him finish. She took a few steps back from the edge to get her own running start and launched herself with a scream of exhilaration into the depths below. She emerged from the water a moment later with a whoop of laughter and he swam to her side. 

 

“Fun, aye?” He asked smugly.

 

She splashed him. “I really thought something terrible had happened to you.”

 

“Would you have been heartbroken and mourned me forever more?” he couldn't exactly hold her since they were both treading water but he guided her towards the edge of the pool where there was a shallower shelf to sit on.

 

“You know I would.” She touched his bearded cheek when she no longer needed her hand free to stay afloat. Their faces drew closer and just before their lips touched, she shoved him away from the stone shelf back toward the deeper water. 

 

Jamos windmilled his arms and went splashing backwards. When he resurfaced, sputtering he would not be denied his kiss. “Why you gorgeous little siren.”

 

The kiss was mutually enjoyed and Shara sighed with a slight laugh when she finally leaned back to look him in the eye again. “I thought we were supposed to be fishing.”

 

He chuckled as well. “But I already got the catch I wanted.”

 

“Ah.” Shara grinned mischievously. “She may have been snared in your net but you have yet to land her permanently.” She ducked under his arm and dove back into the waters of the hidden pool. 

 

They spent the afternoon swimming and splashing and chasing and catching and eventually he did show her the cash of nets and lures and lines so that they could catch their supper as well.

 

“I suppose we're going to have to use that ladder you spoke of to climb back out of here with all this.” Shara observed the wall of stone that had been easy enough to jump down from but would take much more effort to scramble back up.

 

“Nope.” He arranged the net of fish they had caught over his shoulder. He pointed to the seemingly unbroken wall opposite the one they had dived from. “The other side of that is the cliff you saw in the distance when we were sailing up to the island.” He held out his hand. “Come with me.” 

 

They left the fishing tackle back in its niche for another trip back tomorrow or for whoever else might come to stay at the island and wish to use them. Then she followed him, swimming first to the opposite wall and then climbing up onto a ledge she hadn't noticed before. It led through a narrow gap to the seaward side of the wall. 

 

“And now we just walk back around to the beach,” he informed her. “But watch your step. It can be slippery along here.”

 

They both had to concentrate on their footing as they traversed the precarious sea wall but once they were on the safer ground of the beach, Jamos's mind once again returned to the woman before him and the question he so desperately wanted to ask her. But he didn't have the ring with him and he wanted to be able to slip it onto her finger as soon as she said yes. If she did say yes… but of course she would they loved each other and they'd spent nearly the whole trip so far talking about their future together, even though marriage specifically hadn't been mentioned. Or had it? She had said something about him being a happy husband, and he would be the happiest husband in the galaxy if she was his wife.

 

He couldn't help himself. He pulled the net of fish from his shoulder and tossed it further up the beach and then he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. 

 

“That was amazing.” She breathed.

 

He grinned as if she could have only been talking about the kiss.

 

“I mean,” Shara laughed. “The grotto, the sea, the island… everything you've shown me.”

  
Jamos was mesmerized by her. “You look amazing.”

  
She rolled her eyes. “Aye? But I smell like fish.”

  
“So do I.” He shrugged.

  
She laughed again. “Aye, you do. Come on.” She dragged him towards the path to the cabin, snatching up their supper and handing the net back to him on their way. “I'll get my shower first while you clean this lot and then while you're showering, I'll start cooking.”

 

He nodded, grinning, even though he wished they could do all of those things together rather than divide and conquer. “Aye, aye, m’lady.” 

 

For his part, Jamos spent the intervening hour obsessively going over his speech in his head. He most likely filleted the fish much more savagely than he intended, but Shara didn't say a word about it. 

 

She seemed not to have a care in the world as she practically danced from the refresher door singing a song from an old musical. She stopped only to kiss his cheek and apologize in case she had used all the hot water. 

 

“It's okay.” He answered lamely. “It's fed from hot springs like the one at the Hold so it's not likely to run out.” 

 

She gave him a smile, and then went back to her song, already gathering spices and other ingredients.  _ Gods, how had he gotten so lucky to have this woman profess to be in love with him? _

 

Jamos checked that the ring was still in its proper place as soon as he was closed in the ‘fresher. The words of his proposal ran through his mind for the thousandth time as he showered. Then he imagined her possible reaction and had to specifically turn the water to cold before he stepped out, dried off, and dressed.

 

He checked the ring once more, put it in his pocket, took a deep breath, and determined to ask as soon as possible before he lost his nerve.

 

“There you are.” Shara smiled at him and then looked back to her supper preparations. Was he just imagining that she appeared a bit nervous as well. Maybe she suspected something. “I thought maybe you'd drowned yourself rather than sample my cooking.”

 

“What are you talking about? I know you're a marvelous cook.”

 

“Well I can bake I suppose, but this is a new recipe Maris gave me.” She worried. She grabbed a clean spoon and scooped up a bite sized portion from the pan on the stove. She brought it to him and held it out for him to taste. “Here. Tell me what you think.”

 

Jamos opened his mouth to accept the bite she offered him. It was a bit hot, but as soon as the flavor burst on his tongue he exclaimed. “It's amazing!”

 

“You're not just saying that?” 

 

“No. Here.” He reached over to spoon up a second mouthful and fed it to her. “Hmm?”

 

Shara closed her eyes and smiled in relief and enjoyment. Once she had swallowed she started to speak but before she could get a word out his mouth captured hers in a kiss. 

 

“And you taste even better.” He whispered.

 

She sighed and giggled and then turned from him to fill their plates. “Let's eat before it gets cold. Could you pour the drinks?”

 

“Aye,” he said casually as he took two wine glasses from a high shelf. His entire speech flew out the window and even though his hands were busy and he couldn't at the moment extract the ring from his pocket, he said, “If you'll agree to marry me.”

 

She took a beat to give him a side-eye and then asked, “You think that's all it'll take?”

 

“Nah,” he grinned. “You'll probably want me to do the dishes as well.”

 

“At the very least.” She set their plates on the table and took her seat. Then she thanked him when he handed her a glass of wine before pouring his own. 

 

_ This is it! _ He thought as he started to reach toward his pocket to extract the ring. 

 

“Jamos?” She had her hands folded and was looking at him expectantly. 

 

_ What had he forgotten? _

 

“Thank the salt gods?” She prompted. 

 

“Right.” They had been trying to teach Dalla how to say grace back at the Hold but he hadn't realized it had become such an important ritual for Shara also. “Of course,” he acquiesced, taking his seat and folding his own hands. He said the traditional words he had learned as a child and when he looked up again he saw that Shara’s eyes remained penitently closed for just a second longer. 

 

When she opened them again and smiled at him he caught his breath. He could lose himself in those eyes. He almost forgot about eating until she reminded him and they had completed the meal before he even thought of the ring again. 

 

She rose and started to clear the dishes.

 

“That can wait.” He told her. “Just come and sit with me.”

 

“Alright.” She left off and went to sit next to him on the couch.

 

He meant to ask her again, to get down on one knee perhaps, but instead he just pulled her close and they were kissing again. He tried to put everything he wanted to say to her into his kiss but he knew it wasn't enough. 

 

“Thank you.” She began before he could formulate a phrase of his own. “For bringing to this place. The island, the cabin, the grotto, it's just been one wonderful surprise after another.”

 

“Thank you for your surprise.” He grinned. “Seeing you in that suit… it's really something.”

 

Shara laughed. 

 

He kissed her again and then still teasing, asked, “You know what else I'd really love to see?”

  
“No, what’s that?”

  
Jamos didn't think about the words before he drew her close and whispered in her ear. “You waddling around the Hold like Lana with my baby in your belly.”

  
She froze.

 

Instantly he realized his mistake. “Gods, Shara, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… You mean so much more to me than just…” He swore under his breath and rose to his feet, angry with himself for making such a grievous error. 

 

“Ja- Jamos…” she attempted but she also seemed to be having trouble forming a response.

 

“He tried to force you for so long and here I am…” He paced. “I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again. I - I'll leave you alone. I'll sleep on the boat. We can… we can sail back to the Hold in the morning if that's what you want.” 

 

He didn't wait to hear what she wanted. Grabbing his bag, Jamos stormed out of the cabin and down the path to the dock.

 

Shara sat there in shock for a full galactic standard minute before the first sob overtook her and tears started to stream down her cheeks. “It's what I want too.” She cried to the empty room. “More than anything. I'm just so afraid I won't be able to give you that.” 

 

She sat there and cried a little longer and then she cried over the sink while she did the dishes. Then she curled up alone in the bed and cried herself to sleep. 

 

They didn't speak much in the morning or the entire way back to the Hold. When they arrived two days earlier than expected, they were welcomed by a very confused Lord and Lady. 

 

“Is everything alright?” Lana asked, but Jamos wouldn't even look at his sister-in-law. He brushed past them all mumbling something about getting back out on the water and just stopping to rouse the crew. He didn't seem to be including Shara in that equation.

 

Shara ignored the slight and attempted a smile, failing dramatically. “It was beautiful.” She told Lana. “Just like you said it would be. Glad I got to see it once.” Then she turned the subject away from herself as soon as possible. “How are you doing? Has the sickness come back? You have that appointment coming up? Maybe we should get you back inside.”

 

Lana allowed herself to be ushered inside, hoping she would find a chance to figure out this mystery. She shared an unspoken look with her husband. 

 

Marlon nodded. He would have his hands full with his brother.


	41. Help Our Daughters Through This Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your brother’s giving you gray hair, your friend’s been captured, and your megalomaniac fiancé has just discovered you’re in the same city, then sometimes the only thing to do is grab a friend and pour yourself a drink. -LS

Evening at last, and Dalla can finally put the plans she’s been stewing over all day into motion. 

 

Thias stopped yelling around midday, and Dalla assumes he’s sorted the new supplies out of boredom. She feels bad about locking him in the storeroom, but where Thias is concerned she’s at the end of her rope. This just isn't him, and if she didn’t know better she’d think someone spiked his food with crazy sauce. 

 

Ahsoka told her Thias was regressing, acting like he was a child again. “It's a defense mechanism,” she explained after Thias launched arguments through the storeroom door. “He loved your friend who was killed by the royal agents, and since he can't process his grief in a healthy way he’s relying on this to get him through every day.”

 

“She was my best friend, and you didn't have to drag me into the storeroom,” Dalla retorted, still steaming over Thias’ antics.

 

“You’re in survival mode, Dalla,” was Ahsoka’s reply. “You can't think about your friend now because you’re focusing everything you have on staying away from King Rash.” 

 

Snapping at Ahsoka wasn't fair. They’re burned out from the fighting and Saw and everything else, Ahsoka along with all of them. That's one of the reasons Dalla chooses tonight to hold up her end of the bargain with Lux. 

 

She finds him in the main room, looking pretty dejected. 

 

“So about my half of the bargain.”

 

“I was just about to call it in,” Lux admits. After the debacle a few hours ago he especially needs a break. 

 

“If you leave this base, do I have your word you won't do anything reckless?”

 

“Ahsoka will be with me. She’d stop me before I could do anything so no, I will not do anything reckless.”

 

Good enough for her. “Ahsoka and I were talking after we locked Thias in the storeroom and she mentioned she liked going out to eat with her master. I just asked her to run an errand and take you with her. I'm sure you can stop at a food stall or a cafe on the way back.”

 

“I think I know the perfect place,” Lux grins. “But what's this errand?”

 

In reply Dalla hands him a folded piece of flimsi. “The contingency.”

 

Lux unfolds it.

 

“Nice,” he says. “I have the perfect colors in mind.” 

 

…

 

When Lux and Ahsoka leave on their errand/date, Dalla heads for the liquor cabinet and tries to process the cards they were dealt a few hours ago.

 

They were all in the main room, going over the plans for rescuing the king at the execution. The plan was solid and everything was fine until Dono burst through the door. “They have Saw,” she blurted. “He's alive, but I saw them take him away!”

 

Steela sighed; she must have been expecting this. The others buzzed with exclamations of surprise and worry until Lux announced “We have to save him.”

 

_ “Yeah!”  _

 

In that moment, Dalla was very glad Thias was still locked in the storeroom. The others reached for blasters and droid poppers until Steela ordered: “No. We have to save King Dendup. We don't have time or the bodies to do both.”

 

Lux’s jaw dropped. “He's your brother.”

 

“It's what Saw would want. What he would expect. And I expect the same from everyone in this room!” Steela ordered.

 

While the others put their weapons back, cowed by the strength of their leader, Ahsoka spoke up and reminded them to keep to their purpose. After that Steela retreated to her cave, also known as the briefing room, and hasn't come out since. 

 

Dalla grabs a bottle of wine and two flimsi cups from the liquor cabinet and heads for the briefing room. She knocks on the door.

 

“Who is it?” Steela asks through the door. 

 

“It's Dalla. Can I come in?” 

 

Steela doesn't answer, so Dalla cautiously enters with bottle in hand. Steela’s leaning on the holotable, staring at the map.

 

“Do you need something?” She asks.

 

“We both do,” Dalla raises the bottle. “Today was awful. I think we both have a reason to indulge.”

 

“My brother’s in the hands of a psycho. What reason do you have to drink?”

 

Dalla starts pouring. “I'm engaged to the psycho.”

 

“Touché.” Steela reaches out and takes the cup from her. She takes a sip, makes a face, and sets the glass down. “I don't usually drink wine.”

 

“Neither do I. Would have grabbed the rum but I thought it would be best to go with the weaker stuff tonight.”

 

“At least it's alcoholic,” Steela says and raises her cup. “To drinking on the holotable?”

 

Dalla pulls up a chair. “To drinking on the holotable.”

 

Usually, Dalla’s no lightweight. Her parents put grog and ale in her sippy cup when they went on voyages; she's no stranger to alcohol. But after the stressful wreck of a day, she and Steela break two major rules of drinking. They drink on an empty stomach, and while they're already exhausted. 

 

The alcohol hits them like a hovertram. 

 

“So Saw takes the signal flare out of his pack,” Steela pauses midstory for another sip of wine. “And lights it. Right there in the jungle. Just sets it off!” 

 

Dalla bursts out laughing and almost sprays wine. “And nothing caught on fire?” 

 

“Thank the gods it was the wet season.” Steela reaches for the bottle but stops. “How much have we had?” 

 

“I thought you were keeping track.” Dalla takes the bottle and checks the level. “Maybe this should be our last glass.” 

 

“You mean last flimsi cup,” Steela clinks hers against the table. “It’s not the fanciest arrangement.” 

 

“But it beats drinking alone.” 

 

“Yeah. Alone. Dalla, I have to talk to you about that.” She pushes the wine aside. “I was going over the plan for tomorrow, and like Lux said, it’s risky. I would leave you back here, but we need all the bodies we can get and I don’t want to take a chance on Kason being willing to leave with a bunch of strangers.” 

 

“It’s better odds than breaking into the palace.” Both their heads are fuzzy from wine, but they know that. “You’re making the right choice.”

 

“I know. But to be safe, I made some contingency plans and one of them involves you.” She leans on her elbows to look Dalla in the eye. “If we’re at the execution and it doesn’t go as planned, you get the hell out of there. We can’t afford for Rash to get his fingers in the north, and he can’t do that without you. I don’t care how you do it, but you drop everything and run. If you go to the old Kira place, Uncle Brem will find you. Tell him what happened and tell him what I’m telling you right now. He’ll help; he won’t leave someone being forced into marriage or anyone I say is a friend.”

 

“Kason can help with that. Aunt Shara mentioned him a few times, I’m --.” 

 

“Kason and Thias won’t be there,” Steela cuts her off. “When I said drop everything, I meant the boys too. They’ll slow you down and we can’t afford that.” 

 

Steela’s words knock the wine from Dalla’s head. “I’m not leaving them.” 

 

“You’ll have to,” Steela urges. “Rash won't hurt them if he doesn't have you. He won't risk it, and we can’t risk him getting ahold of you. If he has you, he has the northern fleet. The fleet will crush us if we don’t have the Beast Riders and then Rash wins. He beats us, he beats you, and he beats Dendup. If it gets bad, you have to leave the boys.” She grabs Dalla’s hands. “If that happens, if we get caught, I'll take care of them. I swear it. But you have to run.”

 

It kills her to admit it, but Dalla knows she’s right. Sanjay Rash wouldn’t dare harm her family until he had her, and her father knows it too. But if she marries him then salt gods only know what he’d do to the others, and how far Marlon would go to try and preserve her safety. 

 

“Promise me,” Dalla squeezes her hands. “Promise you won't let anyone hurt them, for as long as it takes, even if it takes forever.”

 

“I promise.”

 

She has to understand. Dalla swallows hard. “Steela, if Rash wins and there's no way out, I'm not going to let him take me alive.”

 

There are no steps leading into the sea at the Royal palace, nor are there boats to sail away and give herself back to the salt gods. But she has a knife, and that’ll do the job just as well.

 

She gulps. “If I have to do that --” and sweet salt gods, she doesn’t want to -- “Please don't let them see.”

 

Steela closes her eyes. 

 

“I won’t let them look,” she says. “But you have to promise that if something happens to me, you won’t let Saw do something stupid. It’s only fair.”

 

“I won’t. I swear.” 

 

“Thank you. Oh, and kick him if you have to.” 

 

“Only if you’ll kick Thias if you have to.” 

 

They pick up their cups and take another sip. The dark subject’s still on their minds for sure, and everything happening at the palace hanging over their heads, but right now the wine keeps it distant. 

 

“We really should have kept track of how much we were drinking.” 

 

“I don’t think we’ve had too much,” Steela says. “We’re not falling-down drunk. We’re more buzzed than anything. It's wine, not hard liquor.”

 

“Thank gods.” Dalla smiles over the rim of her cup. “You know, there's no drinking age for ale or beer or wine in the north but you have to be sixteen to get the hard liquors. When I turned legal, my friend Miranda asked to borrow my ID.”

 

“You didn't do it.”

 

“I did it.” Miranda was very, very persuasive.

 

Steela puts a hand over her mouth. “Did she get caught?”

 

“In about three seconds flat. The pubkeep, Maris, knew what was up the minute she sat down. She still calls her Dalla sometimes as a joke; she's never going to live that one down.” Dalla stops short and remembers she shouldn't be using present tense.

 

Luckily Steela doesn't notice. “I think that's how Dono got her friend’s sister’s ID. She said she was going to a bar and kept the card. Speaking of bars, have you seen Lux and Ahsoka? Did they go out?”

 

“Oh! Aye, they’re out running an errand. Probably did some recon on the way or they’re dodging patrols or both.”  _ And this is why the errand date setup always works.  _

 

“Okay. I didn’t know what else would be keeping them out so late.”

 

“It was a more difficult errand.” Dalla quickly changes the subject before Steela can think of it any more. “Frack. I think I got wine on Dono’s scarf.”

 

Steela cracks a smile. “Nice knowing you.”

 

“Make sure there are flowers at my funeral,” she jokes and takes another sip of wine. 

 

“You weren't around when she told me my goggles were a crime against eyewear.” Steela rolls her eyes. “I need them for riding rupings. I don't care how they look.”

 

“You didn't tell that to Dono, right?”

 

Steela nods with false gravity. “I thought she was going to take me to a shrink.”

 

The briefing room door opens and Lux and Ahsoka walk in. “Who's going to a shrink?” she asks.

 

“Steela, if Dono has anything to say about it,” Dalla giggles. 

 

Ahsoka and Lux raise their eyebrows.

 

“Have you two been -- nevermind, how much have you had to drink?” Lux demands. 

 

“We’re not entirely sure,” Steela admits. 

 

Ahsoka walks over to the table and grabs the bottle. “It’s been plenty, if you’re  _ giggling _ . I'm cutting you two off.”

 

“Please do.” Steela pushes the cups in Ahsoka’s direction. “We have to be on our game tomorrow.” 

 

Dalla stands. “I’d better go let Thias out of the storeroom.” 

 

Steela’s eyes go wide. “He’s still there? Dalla, do you realize what time it is?” 

 

She definitely didn’t. “Yeah, I think I’d better let him out.” 

 

“And I’m going to make sure you make it to the storeroom to do that,” Lux says and follows her out. Once the door shuts behind them he pulls a package from his pocket. “We found it. Once we let Thias out, are you sober enough to work?” 

 

“Sober enough? Please. Of course I am. Especially when it’s something this important.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading. Now please feel free to leave a review, or check out the forum, or both. You know the drill.


	42. Time of Testing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, he loves her and she loves him. They both want to get married and have babies but he’s afraid he’s pressuring her into something that she’s not ready for, and she’s afraid that she won’t be capable when the time comes.
> 
>  
> 
> All caught up now? Good. ~ DK

“Would you like to know the sex of your baby?” the midwife asked as she moved the probe through the gel on Lana’s belly. 

 

Lana smirked. “Would you laugh if I told you I already knew?” 

 

“Considerin’ what happened last time I might.” The midwife, Niamh, who Lana had said was the same woman who’d delivered Dalla, smiled as well. “Does your friend know the story?” 

 

“Aye, she does.” Lana remembered her friend and looked away from the sonogram to Shara, who was sitting off to the side silent as the dead. “Shara?” 

 

Shara fixed her eyes on the sonogram and the baby whose image was captured on the screen. She could make out the outline of his or her little head in the fuzzy, black and white image. 

 

“Shara?” Lana repeated. Shara hadn’t said much since she’d come back from the island with Jamos, and she especially hadn’t said anything about the falling out between her and Jamos. 

 

Shara spoke absently, as if she hadn’t even heard her own name. “Do you think? I mean, I know you’re here for Lana and of course she needs you more than I do. She’s the one who’s pregnant. And I’m… I’ve never been… I just… Is it possible that you could tell me why I haven’t… why I was never able…  I-if I’ll never going to be able to…” She pressed her eyes shut and a tear escaped past her lashes and down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. Then she swallowed and rushed to get out the whole question. “Is there a way for you to tell if I’m able to have children?”

 

“Shara?” Lana laid her hand on the younger woman’s arm. She assessed that this must have been at least part of the reason for the strange behavior exhibited between her friend and her brother-in-law but she had no idea that things had progressed so far in such a short amount of time. “Have you and Jamos been… trying?”

 

“No!” Shara gasped and almost smiled. “No, we haven’t even….” She bushed. “He asked me to marry him. He’s asked me several times actually. But I… He’s made it clear that he’d like to have children. I couldn’t say yes. I-I didn’t want him to get his hopes up if I couldn’t…” 

 

Clearly she didn’t want to get her own hopes up either.

 

The midwife was all business. “Is there some reason you think you might be unable to get pregnant or carry a child? I don’t see how, if you haven’t even started trying…” 

 

The woman didn’t know Shara’s history. Well, if she was going to help, then Shara supposed she needed to tell the professional all of her worries. She took a deep breath. “I was married before. We were… together for about two years, and never…” 

 

The midwife frowned thoughtfully. “Two years is not an uncommon length of time to try. Remind me Lana. How long did you and Marlon try for Dalla?” 

 

Lana answered. “Two years. It was exhausting, but she was worth it.” 

 

“And some couples have to wait much longer than…” The midwife started to explain.

 

“But that’s not the only thing.” Shara cut her off. “I’m sorry. When I was a child I was infected with the Dalgos Flu.” She looked from Lana to the midwife and back again. She knew Lana had heard the story but just the mention of it didn’t seem to faze either of them. “All of the mares who survived the plague were left sterile.” 

 

“Oh.” The midwife looked back to her sonogram machine and then said “Well, I don’t believe it would hurt to take a look. Shara, if you’ll fill your bladder for me I can scan you as soon as I’m done with Lana here.” 

 

Shara nodded and filled a cup from a sink installed along the wall to do so when something occurred to her. She turned to Lana with a pleading expression. “Please don’t tell Jamos, and please don’t tell Marlon either.” 

 

Lana nodded. “What happens in this room, stays here.” 

 

Between gulps of water Shara rambled. She hoped it would be useful information and after days of near silence it felt good to finally unburden herself. “I was almost 15 before my cycle began. I had no idea that was late. We lost my mother to the flu.” She told the midwife. Lana of course already knew that part. “My father wasn't comfortable talking about women's things. My friend Edda saw to that.”

 

“And was it she who told you that you might have been sterilized by the illness?” The midwife asked skeptically. 

 

“I'm sure she knew that it was possible but she said it was good that my cycle was strong and regular, once it started that is. I don't think she wanted to discourage me anymore than father did.”

 

“By strong you mean heavy? Painful?” She didn't mean to worry Shara with the inquiry.

 

Still Shara had nothing to compare to her own experience. “The cramps are pretty nasty the first day but that's… is that bad?”

 

“Let the professional take a look.” Lana said encouragingly as she clambered down from the exam table and things were cleaned and readied for the next patient. “If not your father or Edda, who told you about the possible effects of the flu?”

 

“I first read about the connection when I was taking care of Sophia's mother. She was the dalgos I delivered.” Shara explained to the midwife. “I didn't really consider at first that it might apply to me and then on my 16th lifeday Brem… he didn't mean anything by it. It was just sort of a joke between friends. He kissed me.” 

 

She rushed on having already professed to Lana on more than one occasion that she and Brem were nothing more than friends. “His uncle found us and he dragged me back to my father. He said…” Shara remembered the words like they had been spoken yesterday. “He told my father to keep his whore daughter away from his nephew because he knew I'd had the plague. And my father must know that I couldn't give an heir to House Kira if I was as barren as the beasts.”

 

“He said that?” Lana asked in shock

 

But the midwife had picked up on something else. “Did you say House Kira?”

 

“My friend Bremon is the last heir of House Kira.” Shara said simply that had never mattered to her. In her mind he was just Brem. “But…” she dropped her voice to a whisper. “He's also supposedly a direct descendant of Freedon Nadd. His uncle found the old writings. They said he practiced the old magik, that he had received prophecies and could see the future.” 

 

Shara shuddered. She made the sign to ward off Dxun's evil and then remembered that she was a northerner now and didn't have to bother with the old superstition. She held her thumb to her lips and silently prayed for the salt gods protection instead.

 

The midwife scoffed. “I don't know about all that sorcery.” She had in fact tried very hard to keep her own practice clear of the connotation with potions and witchcraft that people had once assumed of the profession.  “I know science and I know there are tests we can do to find out the truth and if we do find a problem there are plenty of treatments we can try. Now why don't you hop up here and we can get started.”

 

Nervously, Shara changed into the gown provided to her and sat on the exam table shivering slightly. She tried to joke. “Not nearly as fun when you're not expecting to see a little profile and little hands and little feet.”

 

Lana stood beside her and squeezed her hand. “We'll get this figured out and hopefully the next time we do this we'll be looking for my niece or nephew on that screen.”

 

Shara smiled gratefully at her friend and they let the midwife do her work. It was an uncomfortable business and the practitioner didn't say much as she was focused on finding answers. 

 

Lana asked softly. “I know you don't really want to talk about it, Shara, but weren't there some tests that the Rashes had done while you were with them?”

 

She was right. Shara didn't want to think about anything having to do with the Rashes, but she welcomed the distraction. “I think they were mostly concerned that I wasn't a carrier of Fartrad's Disease.”

 

The midwife looked up. “You've already been tested for that one?” She smiled. “That's one we can check off the list. It shouldn't have any bearing on your other issues but I was going to suggest it because of the Blackwell family history.”

 

Lana grinned encouragingly. “See? Good news already. Was there anything else you can remember?”

 

“Not really.” Shara frowned. “I never told them I was a plague survivor. I think maybe part of the reason I was with Sanjay was trying to prove Naidon Kira wrong. But then the longer we tried and failed….”

 

The midwife spoke up. “Everything looks fine structurally and you don’t have any pelvic masses, which is good.” 

 

Shara breathed half a sigh of relief. They may have ruled one thing out, but they hadn’t done everything. 

 

“Our next step would be to do some bloodwork to check your hormone levels,” the midwife continued. “I’m not familiar with this dalgos flu, but I’ll look into it. There may be a test we can run up here and if not we can send a blood sample to the lab in Iziz and go from there.” 

 

“Alright.” Shara held out her arm for the midwife to draw the blood. “Whatever you think is necessary, I’ll do.” 

 

“And I’ll be here,” Lana patted her arm reassuringly. “Whatever tests we do, whatever results we get, I’ll be here.” 

 

Shara smiled back at her. “Thank you, Lana, for everything.” 

 

…

 

“Lana?” Marlon startled up from the work on his datapad. “Lana, can you shed some light on this?” 

 

“Of course.” Lana made her way across the room. “What is it?” 

 

“Why does the midwife need all this?” He gestured to the delivery inventory which had come in on the last ship. Testing supplies, biological laboratory equipment … in the context of the midwife, it was terrifying. 

 

Lana winced. She was afraid this was going to happen. She’d promised Shara she wouldn’t divulge the nature of the midwife’s visits to Blackhold and their visits to her practice even to Marlon, but when they ordered the testing supplies she knew this was going to happen when the testing supplies were delivered. Of course the Lord of the North would know that medical supplies had arrived in the Hold. 

 

She scanned the inventory until she found something she could truthfully explain without giving up Shara’s secret. “Well that’s the glucose for my test. Remember, when I had to drink that awful sweet drink and then wait a while before she tested me?” 

 

“Aye,” Marlon agreed. “But I don’t remember any of this other stuff from when we had Dalla.” 

 

“Maybe she needs to stock up.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, was it? 

 

“Lana?” Shara's voice reached them from down the hall before she entered the room. “Saw the ship come in. Was there word from…” her eyes widened the moment she came around the corner and saw that Lana wasn't alone. “Jamos.” She finished lamely. “I was just wondering if there was any word from Jamos, how the voyage was going.” 

 

Marlon frowned. He hadn't heard Shara mention his brother's name in weeks. She might have spoken of him to Lana but it didn't seem like that was what she had originally meant to ask about.

 

“No. I'm sorry.” Lana said to the girl, kindly. “I'm sure we'll hear something soon.”

 

Shara nodded and started to walk away but then looked back with…  hesitation? Or was that hope? “Still with the arrival of the shipment, we could probably…”

 

“We’ll go check this afternoon.” Lana rubbed her growing belly.

 

Shara smiled and took her leave.

 

Marlon's frown deepened as he watched her go. The he looked back at his wife. “Is this something I need to know about?”

 

Lana sighed and seemed to weigh her words. “Shara is… interested in midwifery. She has a bit of experience with dalgos husbandry. It's why she's been attending my appointments.” The lie, if that's what this was, it certainly wasn't the whole truth, came more smoothly as she continued with the explanation. “She knew I had this glucose test coming up.” She gestured to the item again on the shipping manifest. “And with the arrival of the supplies, she must assume that it's time to be getting on with that.” 

 

Lana made a disgusted expression. “Glad someone’s happy about it. Drinking that sweet stuff is not as pleasant as it sounds.”

 

Marlon searched her face for any other clues. “You're sure that's all it is?”

 

Lana stood up on her toes and had to lean awkwardly over her belly and pull his head down towards her to kiss his cheek. “I'm sure.”

 

“Alright.” He'd just have to trust her, for now. But before she walked away he had to ask. “Then what was that about Jamos?”

 

“Oh.” She bit her lip before she answered. “Shara thinks he might be worried that if she gets too interested in another career path…” she rubbed her belly again. “That she might not want to be a Beast master anymore.”

 

“Oh, aye.” Marlon supposed that sort of made sense. But was Shara really that interested in midwifery? It seemed to him that it was a fairly recent obsession. Maybe being around Lana had reminded her of something from when she lived in Iziz. Could that have been what she and his brother had argued about? 

 

Something didn't quite add up and he feared that the sum would still come up to a complication with Lana's pregnancy or their unborn child. “And you don’t know anything about the other items on this list?”

 

“Now that you mention it.” Lana seemed to recall. “Shara has been doing some of her own research. I think she may have told Niamh about something she had read that they’re doing down in Iziz now. You know Niamh always trying to keep the practice up to date with the rest of the galaxy. That’s probably what those other supplies are for, certainly nothing to worry about.”

 

“Nothing to worry about.” Marlon repeated. “And nothing to do with you?” 

 

“Nothing at all to do with me.” Lana smiled and that was a perfectly honest smile. 

 

Then why did the rest of this story give him such a nagging foreboding? There was one way Marlon could check the facts. He could comm his brother and demand to know the reason he and Shara had fought. 

 

…

 

“Jay, I need you to tell me what got you and Shara so riled at each other.” He started right in as soon as his brother’s image materialized over the holotable. 

 

Jamos was put instantly on the defensive.  _ “I don’t see where that’s really any of your business _ .”

 

“Please.” Marlon started over again. “Lana keeps telling me that she’s fine. That there’s nothing wrong with the pregnancy but… I know when I’m being thrown a line, Jay.”

 

“ _ What does this have to do with me and Shar? _ ” He still didn’t seem willing to betray personal information but Jamos was definitely listening now. 

 

The elder brother sighed agitatedly. “Just tell me, aye or nay. Did your argument have anything to do with Shara wanting to switch careers from beast mastering to… midwifery?”

 

“ _ What? No _ .” The confusion in his expression was enough to let Marlon know he’d been right. 

 

Marlon swore and kicked the pedestal on which the table stood. His brother’s image shimmered for a moment before it normalized again. 

 

“ _ What is this all about? _ ” Jamos asked him.

 

Before he could speak again, Marlon fought to control his breathing. “Shara has been attending all of Lana’s office visits with her. I haven’t been to one of them. She brought me a disk of the sonogram but other than that… And then this shipment of supplies arrived this morning to be delivered to the midwife, testing equipment and packaging for shipping biological samples. Well, what am I supposed to think about that?” His hand raked through his hair, making it stand on end. 

 

_ “I...er…”  _ Jamos stammered.

 

“Jamos! This is my child we’re talking about.” Marlon lost all his patience. “Tell me what you know, and tell me  _ right now!”  _

 

Jamos swallowed hard.  _ “On the island. I did something, I said something absolutely stupid. And I guess it sort of had something to do with Lana.”  _

 

“What did you say?” 

 

_ “That I wanted to see...I’d like, someday, to see Shara in the same state as Lana.”  _

 

Marlon closed his eyes. “Jay…” 

 

_ “It was stupid, I know!”  _ He began an explanation but Marlon didn’t have time to worry about his relationship woes. Not when his unborn baby was possibly in danger. 

 

“Get back to the Hold,” he ordered. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is I need you to help me either find out what’s going on, or in case something bad is happening…” Marlon swallowed the lump in his throat thinking of that and banished the thought from his mind. 

 

“ _ Alright, I’m on my way _ .” Jamos agreed. “ _ It might take a while. We’re a ways out. But we’ll put on all sail and get there as soon as we can _ .”

 

…

 

Shara looked at the ID on her comm unit and took a deep breath before she activated the image. She'd been going over in her mind how she'd tell him about the tests but now she was too nervous to say anything. “Hello.” She managed with a slight break in her voice.

 

“ _ Hey _ .” Jamos smiled at her. 

 

Then they both spoke at once. “ _ I just wanted to… _ ” “it's good to finally…” 

 

“ _ You go first _ .” He invited.

 

“No, please, you go ahead.” She insisted.

 

“ _ Okay _ .” He took a breath and then said. “ _ Is Lana okay? Marl’s worried about her. _ ”

 

“You commed to talk about Lana?” She asked, a little disappointed. It had been so long since they had spoken and this was the subject he opened with?

 

“ _ She is the one who's pregnant _ .” He gave a chuckle.

 

Shara didn't see anything funny about it. “As opposed to me?”

 

His smile faded. “ _ Marl said you've been going to all her appointments with her? _ ”

 

“I have and she's fine. She and the baby are both perfectly healthy.”

 

“ _ Aye _ .” His jaw tightened. “ _ Everyone else's babies are fine _ .”

 

“What?” Shara was lost. “What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“ _ It's just mine you don't want _ .”

 

“I never said that!” Her voice rose higher.

 

“ _ Look Shar, you didn't have to. I know he pressured you into it. If you don't want to have kids, I understand _ .”

 

“You know nothing, Jamos Blackwell! You never even asked!” Angry tears were already blurring her vision and a sob broke her words. “I was going to tell you something, but now…”

 

He stared at her, baffled by the reaction. “ _ Maybe we can talk about it when I get back. Marlon asked me to come back to the Hold _ .”

 

She gave a non-committal nod. “Well, sail in the light of the salt gods and... may they guide you safely home.” Shara gave him the traditional blessing and then she cut off the connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If LS gets her Tamer of Rupings, I get my Wildling. I couldn’t resist. We would both love a comment or two. And I don’t know about you but I can’t wait for the next chapter. It’s a good one!


	43. Jamos goes to the Harkons'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re back in the north to find out what Jamos is up to while he goes to support the Harkons during this difficult time, which is about to get even more difficult. -LS

The little norcogs wriggle around and spill over each other, but Adria Harkon keeps each and every pup contained on her lap. Every once in a while she scoops up a puppy and buries her face in its fur. 

 

“Adria,” her husband Glover rubs her back. “You’re squeezing the poor thing.”

 

“I can’t help it,” Adria whimpers. “He’s so fluffy, he’s the only thing that makes me feel anything.” 

 

Across the room, Jamos knows it’s more than the puppy’s fluff that’s keeping Adria going. The norcogs on her lap are the last litter her daughter Miranda bred and cared for before she left Harkon Hall for Blackhold, before some Huttspawn who called themselves king’s men took her and killed her in cold blood. 

 

Jamos’ fist tightens. Salt gods, he wants nothing more than to sail the  _ Polaris _ into Iziz, hunt down Sanjay Rash, and turn the pathetic excuse for a man into paste. The only reason he isn’t doing it right now is because his wife is at the Hold, taking care of his sick niece. Jamos has no idea what Dalla contracted, but if it requires total bed rest and no visitors it must be bad. The last thing they need is something like that making its way through the Hold. He sees no reason to investigate and check on his Chirn Bait -- Marlon and Shara would always keep him informed. 

 

When it comes to the other wish, however, every time he sees the Harkons he’s severely tempted. 

 

Ephraim Harkon clears his throat. “Momma, why don’t I get you something for lunch? You haven’t eaten all day.” 

 

“You should eat, dear.” Glover urges. “Give the pups a break.” 

 

“I’m not hungry.” Adria returns her face to the squirming furball. 

 

“Please,” he begs, taking her into his arms. “Please Adria. Just some toast and tea? For Ephraim and Elinor?” 

 

Ephraim approaches his parents and gently, with Glover’s and Jamos’ help, scoops the norcogs off Adria’s lap. Then he offers his arm to his mother and leads her out of the main hall, one puppy still clutched in her arms.  

 

Glover collapses against the back of the couch when his wife and son leave and sighs. 

 

“You should get something to eat too,” Jamos says. 

 

“I had breakfast,” Glover explains. “I'm worried about her, Jamos. Ever since we found out she's been like a stone statue. And yesterday, when we got those flowers…”

 

Jamos seethes just thinking about those flowers. Yesterday a delivery droid rolled into Harkon Hall with a rush order of bright red roses. Roses which had been sent anonymously. From Iziz. 

 

Everyone knew who’d sent them the instant they heard the delivery was anonymous, and in the split second it took Glover to beam them into the fireplace Adria lost it. “He thinks this can make up for it?” she wailed. “He killed my baby!” 

 

The roses have long since turned to ash, but Adria hasn’t emerged from the fog they’d cast over her. 

“Sanjay Rash will pay for what he did,” Jamos swears. “To your family and to mine. I don’t care what Marlon says; you and I will make him pay.” 

 

“Ephraim and Elinor said something like that.” Glover shakes his head. “I have hot-blooded children, Jamos. They’re fearless, and I’m afraid they’ll do something foolish in the name of revenge.”

 

Like sailing south and murdering Rash? Jamos doesn’t think that very foolish at all. “I have to admit, I might have joined them if it weren’t for the circumstances at the Hold.” 

 

“Your niece,” Glover recalls. “It’s almost a blessing she got sick when she did. It must be miles easier to protect her in the Hold.” 

 

Jamos reads between the lines. “If she was able to travel, if Marlon wasn’t so worried, if they didn’t need Shara to play nurse I’m sure every one of them would be here for you and your family, danger be kriffed.” 

 

“I know they would,” he says. “Your brother should have listened when I offered to betrothe my Ephraim to his Dalla. Could have saved all this mess.”

 

“Ephraim seemed so much older than her at the time and you know how Marlon feels about betrothals,” Jamos replies. That and Marlon and Lana were gunning for an alliance with the Bonteris, but Glover doesn’t need to know that now.

 

“Five years doesn't seem like much when she's looking at a man who could be her father.”

 

“Aye,” Jamos says soberly. He doesn’t want to think about Rash being anyone’s father, let alone his niece’s. Quickly he changes the subject. “Whatever possessed you to marry your boy off to a Bralykburn?”

 

“Talia?” Glover asks. “She's a good girl. They're not madly in love with each other but they'll do well enough. Kept Hugo quiet for a while. He's got a few more daughters I hear. Might do for some of that gang of boys you've got back at the Hold.”

 

Jamos fumes. “I will never see one of mine married to a Bralykburn!”

 

“Just you wait,” Glover smiles at him. “I bet you anything they’ll all fall head over heels for his girls.” 

 

“I don’t think so. We aren’t the pirate types.” He supposes that isn’t entirely fair to Talia, who’s one of the kindest people Jamos has met besides Shara. “You got lucky with Talia.” 

 

“Don’t we know it,” Glover winks. “She’s been a blessing.” 

 

Just then the door to the great hall opens and the woman herself walks in along with Elinor Harkon, Ephraim’s twin sister. 

 

“Papa, there’s something you need to see,” Elinor says.

 

“What is it?” Glover raises an eyebrow, surveying his daughter and daughter-in-law. Elinor looks grave while Talia seems to be trying not to laugh out loud. 

 

“My little sisters sent me a holorecording,” Talia says, a smile pulling at her lips. “Apparently my father received a hologram from Iziz and … well, I think you need to see it to believe it.” She pulls a comm unit from her pocket and activates the image. 

 

Hugo Bralykburn pops up on one side of the recording, a young woman with curly hair on the other. 

 

_ “Tell me,”  _ Bralykburn says.  _ “How does a southern whore have this frequency?”  _

 

“Talia, who is that?” Jamos asks, pointing to the young woman. 

 

But the young woman answers before Talia can.  _ “Lord Bralykburn, my name is Steela Gerrera. I'm calling to discuss the reason your men are in the Iziz harbor during a trade embargo.” _

 

“Gerrera,” he mutters. “Shara knew a family with that name.” Suddenly the rest of the sentence hit him all at once. “Wait, did she say they’re in the Iziz harbor? They broke the embargo?” 

 

Talia nods. “I contacted my father and confronted him after seeing this, and he admitted it. He was trying to corner the fish market and make a quick credit. I apologize on his behalf.” 

 

“You couldn’t have known,” Glover reassures her. “Who’s this Gerrera girl?” 

 

“As far as we can gather, she’s the leader of the southern rebels,” Elinor says. “At first we didn’t know how she got the frequency or knew about the embargo in the first place, but later it was crystal clear.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“Keep watching. We’re almost to the good part.”

 

Jamos doesn’t want to know what “the good part” is, but before he can think about it any more Hugo Bralykburn shouts  _ “Kriff my liege lord! Kriff him and kriff his banners and kriff House Blackwell!” _

 

Jamos and Glover jump at the recorded outburst. 

 

“I'm so very sorry you have to hear this,” Talia apologizes over her father’s rant that Marlon’s a weakling, that he should have put his honor aside and given Rash what he wanted, that he hopes Rash will let him take Marlon’s and Dalla’s heads when this is over. 

 

“Salt gods, that's treason.” Glover gapes. 

 

Jamos is seriously thinking about how to best get Hugo’s head on a pike for what he said about his family. “Talia, would you like to get your inheritance early?”

 

“Please have mercy on him; he's stirred up and shooting off his mouth,” Talia pleads. 

 

“Besides, he's already been dealt with,” Elinor says.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, just watch.” 

 

The poor rebel looks at a loss, and Jamos fees bad for her. A southern beast rider never stood a chance talking to the Bralykburn patriarch.

 

But then there's a disturbance at the edge of the holo field on the rebel’s side. The girl whispers  _ “What are you doing?”,  _ Hugo starts to shoot off his mouth again and then a new person steps into the field. 

 

Dalla. The same Dalla who’s supposed to be sick in her bed at Blackhold, with Marlon and Shara hovering over her! 

 

_ “Lord Bralykburn,”  _ Dalla says icily. 

 

Glover raises an eyebrow at Jamos. “I thought Dalla was sick back at the Hold.”

 

“So did I,” Jamos growls. He can't believe Marlon -- and  _ Shara! --  _ would lie to him like this. He’s always trusted them with everything. Why didn't they trust him to keep this secret? 

 

Talia bursts out laughing despite her attempts to sober up. “Sorry, Glover. Sorry, Captain Jamos. But his face…” She succumbs to peals of laughter again, this time taking Elinor with her. “No wonder Kora and Kayla kept the recording!” 

 

If he wasn't so angry about his family’s deception, Jamos would also be laughing at Hugo’s terrified expression. But as it is, nothing can snap him out of his anger. 

 

“They roasted him,” Elinor tells her father when she realizes he isn't watching the recording anymore. “It was incredible. They got him to kneel for the beast rider. Did you know she’s a Lady too?”

 

Jamos senses Dalla’s hand in the last part but dismisses it. “Glover, may I borrow your comm room?”

 

Glover nods. “The soundproofing’s on the panel right next to the door control.”

 

He’s going to need it. Jamos nods his thanks and makes his way to the comm room, soundproofs it, and angrily jabs his brother’s frequency into his comlink. 

 

Marlon answers after a good thirty seconds, looking rather harried.  _ “Jamos. How are the Harkons?” _

 

“About as well as you’d expect,” he says. “How’s Dalla?”

 

Marlon furrows his brow, no doubt wondering where Jamos’ signature grin went.  _ “Not much better. I'm sorry I can't get her for you.” _

 

“That's fine. I heard she made a miraculous recovery.”

 

_ “Er, Jamos, she hasn't. She’s still burning up and she’s asleep in her room.”  _

 

“Really. Tell me Marlon, when did you move to Iziz?”

 

_ “What are you talking about?”  _

 

“You know full well what I'm talking about! I just saw a hologram of Dalla, perfectly healthy, in Iziz with the rebels in the south! She’s been there the whole time, hasn't she?”

 

Marlon doesn't answer at first. When he does he sounds strangled.  _ “I didn't know where she went when I sent her. That way if Rash had some force user poke around in my head I couldn't betray her location. But when Thias ran off too --.” _

 

“Thias is in Iziz too? Salt gods Marlon, why would you lie to me about something like this?” 

 

_ “I was trying to protect my children!”  _ He shouts.  _ “The fewer people who knew about this, the safer she was. I don't know what possessed her to reveal herself in the hologram you saw.” _

 

“And Shara!” Jamos interrupts his brother. “You made my wife lie to me, Marlon. It's disgraceful! And you know what?” He reaches for the button to terminate the call. “This conversation’s over. If you don't trust me to keep my niece safe, then I don't trust you with hearing what I need to say to Shara.”

 

_ “Jamos!”  _ Marlon scrambles as if to save the call, but Jamos hangs up on him. The second the call terminates he punches in Shara’s frequency. 

 

His wife’s image materializes before him.  _ “Hello, love,”  _ she says with a smile.

 

Jamos isn't feeling the love. “Are the kids around?”

 

_ “No, they’re all making cards for Portia.” _

 

His already-tortured heart wrings a little more. Right before he left for Harkon Hall their beloved norcog, Portia, finally gave into her old age. His children (not to mention he and Shara) had been devastated when he told them Portia had gone to norcog heaven. 

 

Just then, Marlon’s voice filters faintly through the connection:  _ “Shara! If that’s Jamos, don’t answer him!” _

 

He ignores his brother. “Are you taking care of Ghost Dalla?” 

 

_ “What?”  _

 

He can't take it anymore. “I know Dalla’s not at the Hold, Shar.”

 

Shara sighs.  _ “Jamos, I'm so sorry but you have to understand--.” _

 

“Understand what? That I'm not trustworthy enough to know that my niece is within a stone’s throw of the man who wants to force her into marriage? Who hurt you so terribly and then refused to let you go? I’m sorry being concerned for my family’s safety is a crime. Salt gods Shara, why did you lie to me?” 

 

_ “I didn’t come up with it,”  _ Shara says.  _ “I only found out because I demanded to be let in to see her.”  _

 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” 

 

Shara snaps.  _ “Because I was trying to keep Dalla safe!”  _

 

Jamos throws up his hands. “I didn’t know I was such a threat to Dalla’s safety.” 

 

_ “I know you would never risk any of us being hurt. No one was supposed to know about this but Marlon! We’re all trying --,”  _ her voice breaks.  _ “We’re all trying to get out of this nightmare unscathed and the last thing we need is our own family questioning each other!”  _

 

And then it’s over. Shara’s yelled herself to tears. 

 

Jamos knows the formula for their fights: she yells, he gets sarcastic, she cries. That still doesn’t make her tears hurt him any less. “Shar, I’m sorry.” 

 

Shara sniffs.  _ “The Harkons didn’t hear any of this, did they?”  _

 

“The room’s soundproof,” Jamos explains. “Shara, I’m coming home. We’ve already had Miranda’s funeral, and having me here won’t do anything for the family after seeing that holorecording.” 

 

_ “Safe travels,”  _ Shara says quickly and shuts off the transmission, probably to go catch one of their kids or cry some more. 

 

Jamos takes a deep, cleansing breath and exits the comm room. Glover’s waiting by the door. 

 

“I need to go back to the Hold,” he says. 

 

“I’m going with you.” 

 

“Glover, your family needs you. You should be here with them, not escorting me.” 

 

“I know why you’re going home, Jamos. And I’m going to come with you for it.” Glover draws himself up to full height and swallows hard. “I’m going to get justice for my baby girl.” 

 

_ Of course, but Sanjay Rash is mine.  _ Something collides against his boot and he looks down. A seal grey norcog pup plays around his feet, exposing his belly to be petted. Jamos, lover of animals, obliges. 

 

“You know, that’s not one of Miranda’s,” Glover says. “You said your Portia passed on? Why not bring home a new member of the family?” 

 

“Glover, the pups are Adria’s lifeline.” 

 

“Only the litter Miranda took care of,” he fights tears mentioning his daughter. “Please take him, Jamos. I want someone to be happy in these dark days.” 

 

Jamos somberly bends at the knees and scoops the pup into his arms. The tiny creature curls into a ball. 

 

“Thank you, Glover,” he says. “The kids are going to love him.” 

 

…

 

Shara is not pleased when Jamos walks down the gangplank looking like he’s pregnant. 

 

It’s not his fault the pup likes to snuggle. It’s also not his fault the little guy’s favorite cuddle spot is under Jamos’ jacket. Still he attempts his signature smile, which turns real as soon as he catches a glimpse of his youngest three children. 

 

“Daddy!” Lana cries and tries to bolt for him, only for Shara to snag the back of her shirt. Arkon’s practically jumping up and down with excitement, and Cornel’s focused on a ship a few docks down. 

 

“Hi, guys!” he crouches in front of his children both to meet their eye level and to support the pup in his jacket. 

 

Shara sighs. “What’s in the coat, love?”

 

Jamos decides the best explanation is just to show her. He opens his coat flaps and the little norcog spills out in a flurry of motion.

 

Arkon’s eyes go huge.  _ “Puppy!”  _

 

“You didn’t,” Shara whispers. 

 

“Glover made me.” 

 

Arkon and Lana practically collapse over the new puppy, and Cornel turns his attention from the ship to watch them for a minute. 

 

Jamos grins up at her. “Can we keep him, Momma?” 

 

Shara gives him a look. 

 

“Make sure to say thank you to Lord Glover and Lady Adria when we see them next,” she relents. “What should we name the puppy?” 

 

Lana hugs the tiny creature. “Kasey.” 

 

Jamos and Shara freeze. Kason’s been missing for almost two weeks now, and so far they’ve merely swept the matter aside. Worrying the children about their brother or cousins won’t do them a bit of good. 

 

But Shara’s face turns from shock to the not-to-be-disobeyed look all northern women master. 

 

“Go get our baby back,” she orders. 

 

Jamos blinks and straightens up. “Shara?”

 

“Go get our baby back,” she repeats. “The tooka’s out of the bag now and I’m not going to sit idly by any longer. Sail south. Break through the walls of Iziz. And you get our baby back.”


	44. Grandmother Flint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the thing Shara really needs right now is a mother figure. She hardly remembers her own mother and grandmother, had a terrible experience with one mother-in-law, and missed out on chance at another but maybe another opportunity is sailing her way. ~ DK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word of warning: there is a mention of suicide in this chapter. It is not a contemporary event just the memories and lingering grief of our characters for someone they lost in the past. LS and I know that this is not a subject to take lightly. It is a tragic reality that has most likely touched all of our lives in one way or another. Whether you know someone who has attempted or succeeded or if you have entertained those thoughts yourself please know that we wish you hope and healing.

Shara very nearly decided to just give up on the whole testing endeavor. After all it was a complete hassle. Marlon was getting worried that it was all to do with Lana's pregnancy instead of her. She'd given enough blood, she was sure, to fill the river all the way down to Iziz. And what did any of it matter if she no longer had a relationship with the one man in the entire Galaxy who she would ever really want to have a child with?

 

But no, she told herself. This wasn't about anyone else. She was done allowing anyone else to dictate when and how she would find out what her body could or could not do. She was going to see this through to the end. And when she had those answers… and when Jamos came home…

 

Now it was just a waiting game. The latest round of samples had been sent out to labs, a couple of them just to the med center in Iziz but another was headed all the way to Naboo. They’d heard there was a researcher there who was studying a similar infection to the Dalgos Flu. In that case Falumpasets were the original carriers before the contagion was passed to humanoids but with similar results. Shara was just glad the mess with the Trade Federation on that particular planet as taken care of. Otherwise who knew how long it would have taken to see results.

 

She  was trying to keep her mind occupied in the meantime. Lana had lent her a book that she was really enjoying, if she could only stay focused on it. 

 

Shara sighed and looked down again at the page. It was a biography on real flimsy pages that Shara had been surprised to learn contained the true life story of a character she had thought was only made up for a children's story. 

 

Melaana had told Shara that she planned on naming her daughter Sanya, after a famous sea captain. She'd had no idea at the time that Sanya Harkon had been a real person who had sailed Onderon's northern sea and married a Blackwell, cementing the friendship of the two families ever since. 

 

By the third chapter, Shara was truly enthralled in the adventure and drama and romance. She had forgotten to eat lunch and made it to the twenty-seventh chapter by mid afternoon. And then she had just reached the wedding for which Sanya had written her own vows that were sometimes still included in northern ceremonies, when Marlon found her in the library curled up with the volume, with tears in her eyes.

 

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” he said softly. 

 

“No, that's alright.” Shara marked her place and sat up a little straighter. “Did you need me for something or does Lana?”

 

Marlon took the chair next to her looking contrite. “I'm afraid it's I who needs to apologise to you.”

 

“Apologize?”

 

“I insisted that Lana tell me what all this business has been with the midwife.” He confessed.

 

“Oh.” Shara nodded in resignation. “She was right to tell you. We never meant for you to worry.”

 

“So all the extra tests have been to discern if you and Jamos would be able to have children?”

 

“I'm not doing this for him,” she answered too quickly, her voice a little too harsh. She bit her lip. “I wanted to know for myself.”

 

“He's very much in love with you and would like to start a family but he would never pressure you.” 

 

“I know.”

 

“But you refused him?”

 

“Refused him? I've been putting him off. I don't think I've ever out right refused him.” Jamos had asked her to marry him half a dozen times but other than when she was still married, and maybe even then, she had desperately wanted to say yes.

 

“You mean …” Marlon looked at her left hand pointedly and then gave her a guilty smile. 

 

“He told you he meant to ask me, didn't he?”

 

“He did.” The man admitted.

 

“Salt gods only know if he'll still want to after our argument.” She sniffed. “Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I want to stay at the Hold and help Lana with Dalla and the baby. Maybe I  _ should _ think about studying to become a midwife.”

 

Marlon studied her for a moment. “Shara, do you know what bothered me most about not knowing what was going on with Lana these past several weeks?”

 

“No.” She shook her head guiltily. His needless worry had been all her fault.

 

“It wasn't because I was afraid something might be wrong with Lana or the baby, although that certainly was a concern. I was sure she would have told me if it were something really worrisome.” 

 

Now Shara studied him.

 

“It was because I knew she was bothered about something and she didn't feel the need to come and tell me about it.”

 

Shara sighed. “I asked her not to. I'm sorry I…”

 

“Now I'm not saying this to blame you for anything and I wouldn't want to pry into your business.” He said firmly. “You say that you're not doing this for Jamos and maybe that's so, although I think he might disagree about his investment in the outcome one way or another.”

 

“Even if he … I don't have anything to tell him until the test results come back and I…”

 

Marlon stopped her again with a hand on her arm. “This is a subject that you care very deeply about.”

 

“Well, aye.”

 

“My brother loves you. He may be an idiot and not know how to express it all the time.” He smiled, trying to coax a smile out of her as well. “I'm sorry about that. We'll work on him. But, don't you think that he might like to be the one you turn to when you are dealing with something that is really important to you?”

 

“Oh!” Shara's eyes widened. “I hadn't thought about that. I'll talk to him when he…” 

 

Lana’s entrance into the library put a halt to the conversation. “Ship coming into the harbor.”

 

Shara perked up and Marlon gave her a wink. “That brother of mine finally decide to show his face?”

 

“No actually this time it's my brother and if I can make a wild guess I would say we should be getting a comm in about 3 - 2 -” Lana pulled the chiming comm unit out of her pocket with a smirk. “What did I tell you?” 

 

She clicked to activate the unit and above it materialized the small image of a well dressed elderly lady. “ _ Hello, my dear _ .”

 

“Hello, Grandmother.” Lana gave her a respectful nod.

 

“ _ I have commandeered your brother and his ship to bring me to Blackhold and we are within sight of your lovely little island now _ .” 

 

Lana shot a smirk at her husband before she politely asked, “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

 

“ _ Do I need to have a reason to visit my favorite granddaughter _ ?” 

 

“Making sure that our list of prospective baby names is up to your standards?” Lana teased. 

 

The older woman smiled and then sighed dramatically. “ _ I suppose it is up to me to make sure my next great grandchild doesn't end up with something as bland and overused as  _ Dalla.  _ I have six great-granddaughters named Dalla! And that's not counting all my great-nieces. _ ”

 

“We happen to be very fond of the name. But we promise out of deference to you that we won't name the next one Dalla.”

 

“ _ I can hardly wait to see her. It's been far too long since I've seen any of you. _ ” She betrayed a smile and then straightened, switching back to business mode. “ _ Well I shan't keep you. I'm sure you've plenty to do to prepare for our imminent arrival _ .” 

 

“It's no problem at all, Grandmother. We'll see you soon.” Lana keyed off the connection with a laugh.

 

Marlon groaned. "Would it kill that woman to comm ahead once in awhile?"   
  
Lana gently smacked him. "That's my grandmother you're talking about."   
  
“She still could comm!” He complained but he kissed her cheek all the same.   
  
Lana waddled off, yelling over her shoulder back at Marlon and Shara. “I'll fix up some rooms for them. You get Dalla ready!”   
  
The door shut behind her and Marlon sighed and with mock exasperation "In-laws!"

 

“Sounds like a family thing.” Shara attempted to excuse herself. “I'll  just hang out in my room, finish my book.”

  
“You think you're getting out of this that easily? You're probably part of the reason she's here. Come on.” He looked mock pleadingly at her. “You can't leave me alone with all these Flints. Without Jay here you're the closest thing I've got to family. I always wanted a kid sister.” He offered his arm to escort her and she took it with a smile.

 

“You really think she wants to meet me?” 

 

“Aye, she'll want to hear all the first hand news about her southern cousins to add  to her database. But she'll most likely also appoint herself as your honorary Grandmother/Matchmaker. Who knows she might have a candidate to rival my brother stowed away in her luggage.”

 

Shara rolled her eyes. “I never had a mother or grandmother to fuss over me. And Sanda certainly never made me wish for one.”

 

Marlon sobered and smiled sadly. “Wish you could have met Jay and I’s mother.”

 

Jamos hardly ever mentioned his mother, and Shara had steered clear of the subject but now she had to ask. “Was it an illness that took her to the salt gods?”

 

He bowed his head and spoke heavily. “She… took herself to the salt gods.”

 

“She… I'm sorry. I had no idea.” Of course that was why they didn't want to talk about it.

 

But after the tooka was out of the bag a weight seemed to lift off young lord’s shoulders and he continued with calm assurance. “It was an awful shock when we first discovered that she had walked down the sea stairs and would never be coming back. I guess she had never really been the same after my father died. She stayed with us long enough to see Lana and I married and officially settled as Lord and Lady of the North and she knew that Jamos was happy sailing on his ship.”

 

“But she never got to meet Dalla. She missed out on so much.” Shara thought of all the things she wished she could share with her own father. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be adopted by Lana's infamous Grandmother Flint.

 

“I see a lot of her in Dalla.” His smile was wistful. “Her temper.” He chuckled, remembering. “Of course Jamos got that too. The way he gets sarcastic and says things he doesn't mean. Momma did that and then she'd apologize and she was so sincere it would break your heart. She was really very kind and she knew exactly what to say at the right moment.” 

 

“Like Jamos,” Shara whispered.

 

Marlon sniffed and drew himself back to the task at hand. “Well, we had better get Dalla ready to meet her great grandmother or we'll both be facing someone else's wrath.”

 

…

 

“See the sigil?” Marlon gestured to the black banner with the bright orange flame. “People joke that the Flints chose the flame for their sigil because they spread like it.”

 

“I believe you’re helping to spread little half-Flints.” Lana smirked.

 

“Well the other reason they chose it is for their ability to appear out of nowhere, with no warning.”

 

This time Lana rolled her eyes. “Grandmother likes you, Marlon. Please, try to stay in her good graces.”

 

“Me, leave someone’s good graces?” Marlon pointed to himself in mock surprise. “That would never happen.”

 

Shara smiled a little at the couple’s antics and then turned her attention to Dalla who was peeking around her parents’ legs at the ship. “What about you, Dalla? Are you excited to see your great-grandmother?”

 

“Don’t hide!” Marlon fished his daughter from her hiding place and pretended to cower behind her. “You’re my bodyguard, Dalla. You have to protect me from your grandma.” 

 

_ “Marlon.”  _

 

Just then the gangplank was lowered and the elderly woman from the hologram descended on the arm of a young redheaded man who grinned hugely at Lana. 

 

Lana smiled back. “Wyman, Grandmother. How was your trip?” 

 

“We’ve had good weather all the way,” the young man said and released the woman’s arm when they reached the dock before he tackled Lana in a hug. “Good to see you, little sister.” 

 

Lana hugged him back. “How did she manage to commandeer your ship?” She whispered into her older brother’s ear.

 

Wyman winced. “She didn't exactly ask.”

 

Lana must have expected as much. She silently sighed and then held out her arms to the woman. “Grandmother, you look lovely.”

 

“I'm not lovely my dear, I'm old.” Grandmother Flint accepted the briefest of hugs. “But don't apologize, I let my favorites get away with such things.”

 

“Good thing I'm your favorite.” 

 

Grandmother flashed her a small smile before she moved onto the others. “Marlon. Has the fishing season been going well?”

 

“It has.” He ruffled Dalla’s hair. “Say hello to your great-grandmother, Dalla.”

 

“Ah yes. My generically-named grandchild.” Despite her complaints Grandmother’s smile returned when she looked to Dalla. “Hello, dear.” 

 

“Hello.” Dalla said cautiously. 

 

“You probably don’t remember me. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby. You’ve certainly grown up now. Tell me child, how old are you now?” Dalla held up two fingers. “Two! That’s a good deal of space between siblings.” 

 

Wyman raised his eyebrows. “Lana, don’t you and Marlon want to keep pace with the rest of us?” 

 

Lana bopped him in the shoulder. “Let’s not scare Shara away before she’s even been introduced to the both of you.” 

 

In an instant the matriarch’s gaze was on Shara. “Shara, is it?”  

 

“Aye, Lady Flint.” Shara gave her a respectful nod. “My name is Shara Rupingwood; I've heard so much about you and it's so good to finally meet you in person.”

 

“As have I heard about you.” Grandmother Flint seized one of Shara’s hands in her own. “You are beautiful.” 

 

Shara blushed. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

 

“Not ma’am,” Grandmother scoffed. “Grandmother. No one’s called me anything but since my first grandchild was born. Well, except for that Bralykburn fellow once, salt gods take his soul.” 

 

“Hugo Bralykburn?” Shara asked. 

 

“No dear, his father. Filled his foolish head with ale and called me Lady Hag. I may be old, but I believe I’ve aged rather well. And so did he, after I informed his crew of some of his more private business endeavours.” 

 

Shara blinked. 

 

“Besides.” The Lady went on. “You must have some Flint blood in you with that fair, amber hair.” she reached out a hand and touched the braid that was draped over Shara's shoulder.

 

“My mother nearly married a Flint.” Shara burst out not knowing quite what to say. “But he had nothing to do with my hair.” She blushed. “I have my father's coloring.”

 

“We’ll check the records all the same. It seems as if my family is everywhere these days.” She locked arms with Shara. “Well, let’s go inside before we all freeze to death out here.” 

 

“I'll escort this little lady inside, if she'll have me.” Wyman Flint held out his arms to his niece. 

 

Dalla studied him for a moment before she grinned and ran to him.

 

“There's my girl!” He scooped her up. “You can keep me company while I'm away from your cousins.”

 

The little girl nodded and giggled.

 

“Who's your favorite uncle?” Wyman asked.

 

Without a beat she answered, “Jamos!”

 

Everyone laughed except for Wyman, who groaned, “How am I supposed to compete with that?”

 

“Maybe if you came around more often to visit.” Lana patted her brother on the shoulder as they all continued into the Hold.

 

…

 

“So tell me about this  _ almost _ step-father of yours.” Grandmother Flint demanded as soon as the three women were settled before a warm fire in the sitting room.

 

Lana shook her head and smiled indulgently down at the tiny fishing leathers she was sewing.

 

“His name was Klint.” Shara informed the matriarch. “At least that's what my mother's journal said.”

 

“Klint Flint?” Grandmother sighed dramatically and picked up one of the datapads she had arranged on the table in front of her. “Aye, I remember that one. Whatever possessed his parents to name him that…”

 

“They didn't have you around to approve name selection.” Lana teased.

 

The older lady raised an eyebrow in her granddaughter's direction but she didn't comment. Instead she brought up a document on the datapad. “It seems like that name came up in my research recently. Let's see… It says here that Klint fathered 14 children. His wife died delivering the youngest.”

 

“Aye, that was in Mother's journal,” Shara agreed.

 

“But he never remarried.” Grandmother tapped the 'pad, nodding. “According to this it was his oldest daughter who helped care for her remaining siblings after Klint and over half of the children were taken in the epidemic.” The old Lady frowned, touched her thumb to her lips, and raised her hand to the salt gods.

 

Lana and Shara both repeated the gesture reverently. 

 

“The family also took in a neighbor who was orphaned by the plague. The child was close to death herself, but they nursed her back to health.” Grandmother perked up, pointing to the article. “This is why the story sounded familiar. The girl they took in married one of the brothers. Another Wyman,” she nodded pointedly at Lana. “The couple just had their sixth child last year, named her Werda. Now there's a unique name for you. I'm told it's Mandalorian…”

 

But Shara had stopped listening, focused only on one detail. “She survived the plague and had six children?”

 

“Well, six so far.” Grandmother shrugged. “If they can keep coming up with original names like Werda, though they ought to keep going.”

 

Lana and Shara shared a hopeful smile. 

 

The older lady seemed not to notice. She was still focused on her research. “But none of them are your blood relatives so let's look up the Rupingwoods and… Aye, here we are. Irena Flint married an Arkon Rupingwood… she would be your third great grandmother, dear.”

 

Lana laughed and grinned at Shara. “So that makes us… what? 13th cousins 8 times removed?”

 

Grandmother rolled her eyes. “I hear you're to be much more closely related soon. Caught up with Marlon's little brother at a wedding ceremony a year ago? Hmm?”

 

Shara sobered. “Well, I don't know about that. Last time we spoke, we argued and maybe he's changed his mind. If he's no longer interested then, I don't think…”

 

Grandmother and Lana shared a look and Grandmother gave her a sly wink. “Good riddance, I say! You're well shot of that Jamos Blackwell character. I've nothing against your Marlon, dear.” She reached over to pat Lana's hand and Lana had to bite her tongue to stifle a laugh. “But that younger one…” Lady Flint clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Always sailing away from responsibility on that ship of his, probably has a girl in every port. Mark my words that one is trouble.”

 

“Jamos isn't…” Shara attempted but the older lady didn't let her get a word in edgewise.

 

“She'd be so much better off with one of your cousins, Lana. Don't you think?”

 

“That may be.” Lana agreed, trying to keep a straight face.

 

Shara gaped at her friend.

 

Grandmother went back to flipping through her records. “Your cousin Marton could be a good match.” She glanced up at Shara and shook her head. “Though maybe a little too young.” Then she turned to another record and raised her eyebrows. “It's high time for Hugo to remarry…”

 

Shara nearly choked.

 

“She means my cousin Hugo Flint.” Lana rolled her eyes. “Grandmother, she doesn't want a widower. What about cousin Cade? He was always fun when we were kids.”

 

“No, not Cade. I'm afraid he was married last year. It was the same week you all hosted the wedding here for the pub owner's son and oh… what's her name, my great niece.”

 

“Maris.” Shara supplied with a tight frown. She couldn't believe Lana was going along with this.

 

“Aye, that's the one, Maris.” Grandmother smiled. “But it is a shame about Cade already being taken. He's quite the looker. Can you imagine the babies, with Shara's fair hair and Cade Flint’s eyes? His mother was a Kretash, you know.”

 

Shara couldn't take this much longer. 

 

But Grandmother Flint was still in full flow. “And all of them beast masters like Shara here. Of course I haven't done the calculations but one can only assume.”

 

Lana must have noticed how close Shara was to exploding so she turned the topic away a bit. “You don't know if this one will be a beast master?” She patted her big belly.

 

“No,” the older lady looked over her notes again. “According to my calculations, and you know I am very seldom wrong about these things, it will be your third who expresses the rare affinity with animals.”

 

Lana smiled. “Oh so we'll be having another one?”

 

“You're a Flint, my dear, of course you'll be having another one. Now Shara, with her beast rider background will…”

 

“I don't want to marry anyone else!” Shara burst out suddenly. “I love Jamos!” She took a breath and tried to calm herself. “And he loves me. When - when he gets back we'll talk, we'll work through this and if we can't, then…”

 

“You will.” Grandmother Flint reached out and gave the girl's hand a squeeze. Her smile was kind and sincere. “Just glad you said something before I started working on betrothing you to one of my grandsons.” 

 

Shara blushed. “Thank you, Grandmother.”

 

…

 

Jamos paced the deck. The hypothesis had been forming in his mind for the last few days as the  _ Polaris _ sailed towards home. Marlon had told him that Lana said she was fine. Shara said the same thing. But there were odd deliveries being shipped to the midwife. And Shara had been attending all of Lana's appointments along with her. Or had she? What if it was the other way around? Marlon seemed to think that Shara wanted to learn how to be a midwife but she'd never even mentioned the profession to him. 

 

Lana wouldn't lie to his brother unless she was covering up for someone else. For Shara? Did Shara have some other reason for visiting the midwife? 

 

He couldn't believe she was pregnant. They had never had the opportunity to even let that be a possibility. And even if she was angry with him now he was absolutely sure she hadn't been with anyone else. 

 

But then all that testing equipment. Was something wrong? Was it something that happened to her while she was with that huttspawn? Had he been so angry that she had never given him a child that he had done something to her that made it impossible for her to have a child with anyone else? 

 

Jamos seethed. Would the shadow of that dark era of her history follow them for the rest of their lives? He had thought they had put all that behind them when the annulment documents had finally been signed. But now… what if there were some lasting remnant?

 

By the time the  _ Polaris _ finally pulled into Blackhold harbor Jamos's imagination had him fearing the worst and then another annoying distraction loomed before his bow. The Flint banners marked the ship as friendly but frustratingly between Jamos and his goal. And then thankfully he saw through his macrobinoculars that the ship was preparing to leave. 

 

Wyman Flint smiled from his own deck and raised a hand in greeting as the two ships passed each other. Jamos managed a curt nod to the other captain. And then finally they were pulling into the dock and the gangplank was lowered. Jamos was down it almost before it thudded into place. He trusted his crew to do the necessary jobs that accompanied the end of a journey. 

 

They were all there. Lana now as big as a holdfast was smiling and Marlon beside her as if he didn't have a care in the world. So much for the urgent worry over his unborn child. 

 

And then he saw Shara. Her expression was more hesitant. His gaze traveled over her as he rushed up to the dock but it wasn't easy to tell anything as she was wrapped in a heavy cloak to guard against the chill wind. Jamos didn't even feel the cold.

 

When he reached her he touched her cheek and nearly wept when she leaned against his hand. “I've missed you, Jamos.” She whispered.

 

“Are you alright?” He asked cupping her other cheek and looking her in the eyes.

 

“I'm fine. Why wouldn't I…” 

 

“The tests, they weren't for Lana, were they?”

 

Shara shook her head and glanced back towards the others.

 

Marlon was already leading his wife and daughter back towards the Hold. Lana gave Shara a nod and then they were left alone.

 

“I didn't mean to shut you out. I only wanted to have some answers before I bothered you with…”

 

“You know I'd never want you to worry over anything on your own.”

 

She bowed her head and then looked back up into his eyes. “I understand that now.”

 

“Then, salt gods, what is it?” He cried impatiently before settling again into the indignation of his suspicions. “Did he hurt you? When you were with him, did he do something that made you…”

 

“No.” She assured him quickly. “I thought perhaps the reason I could never… I thought there might be something wrong with me because of the sickness I had when I was little.”

 

“Oh Shar,” he pulled her into a hug. “You didn't do all this because of what I said? I would never force you to have kids just because I think it might be great to have a little one like Dalla. I mean we're godparents, right? And we've got Portia. I mean… what I'm trying to say is…” he held her back to arm's length again to look her in the eye. “There is nothing wrong with you.” He grinned. “At least not from where I'm standing.”

 

She smiled. “It wasn't pressure from you that made me want to do the tests, Jamos.” It felt so good to be honest with him that her eyes misted a little with happy tears. “I love sharing responsibility of Portia with you and I've loved that we could teach Dalla to swim together.” She wove her fingers together with his. “I'd like more than anything to experience having a family with you.”

 

Jamos rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “Then please let me experience this part of the process with you too.”

 

“Aye.” She agreed with a sniff. Then she swallowed and gazed up at him with a smile. “It's all looking good so far. There are a few more results that we're waiting for, but Grandmother Flint was just here and she said there was a southern cousin she knew of who had the Dalgos Flu like I did and they just had their sixth. I don't know about six and I don't know if we'll even want to start right away even if we find out nothing's wrong,” she rambled. “Maris had the hypo so she and Ness could just enjoy being the two of them for a while and while I really don't want to get the hypo, not with all the other shots I've had lately, and I really wouldn't mind so much if it accidentally happened right away…”

 

She took a breath and smiled at the way he was gazing at her. Then she began again a little slower with a blush in her cheeks “With everything I've learned from Niamh about how and when to try… I kind of have an idea now of when and how we could … avoid…”

 

“We can wait as long as you want.” Jamos vowed. “And I promise I can be totally hands off when we need to… avoid.” 

 

“Well, not totally hands off.” She blushed even brighter red with the tone of her own teasing. “I don't think hands are exactly the problem.” 

 

He laughed, pulled her close once again, and swung her around. “I love you, Shara!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! They're finally being honest with each other! And LS and I honestly love reviews! Thanks everybody for reading!


	45. It's All In The Executions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now the moment many of you have been waiting for, the execution! In addition to the delightful topic of regicide, this chapter contains a suicide attempt. Please be aware that DuchessKenobi and I do not mean any disrespect toward those who struggle with this or who have unfortunately lost the battle, and if you feel this will upset you then we completely understand. -LS

Sanjay Rash straightens the black and gold doublet. It's perfect: it accentuates his usual red shirt but still doesn't take away from the crown on his head. He can think of few other things he’d like to wear to meet his bride. 

 

He smiles at his reflection in the mirror and Kason scoffs from the other side of the room. “You’re trying too hard.”

 

“What am I trying too hard for?” Sanjay’s learned the easiest way to deal with Kason is not to give him the confrontation he wants. Not much can dampen his mood anyway, not today. 

 

“To look buff. Nice padding,” Kason snarks. “My dad has tons more muscle than you.”

 

“Really? We’ll have to compare at the family reunion.” He hides a smirk when the boy seals his lips. “How do your clothes fit?”

 

Kason scowls at the service droids who dressed him in the black tunic with light blue piping. Sanjay would have liked to match the boy’s wardrobe to his own, but he isn't taking any chances of people saying there's no Blackwell family witness at his wedding. “It’s too big. Don’t you know the bride is supposed to wear the dress?” 

 

“There was no way to get one for Dalla without her measurements. Once she’s here I’ll have her measured and get her everything she needs. Until then --,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ruby necklace. “There’s this. My bridal gift. And I’ve something else upstairs, something that’ll really make her look like a queen.”

 

“Well good luck getting Dalla to wear that. She never wears jewelry because it gets in the way.”

 

“She’ll have nothing for it to get in the way of,” Sanjay replies. “She’s going to be my queen; I plan to treat her as such. She won't have to lift a finger.”

 

“You’re going to make her a queen with a royal wedding? Some wedding you’re going to have,” Kason snorts. “You don't even have a wedding dress, and you’re recycling your bride gift. What about a cloak? Are you going to leave that bit out too? Like ‘sorry Dalla, I'm not going to bring you under my protection because I'm going to hurt you instead.’”

 

“Calm yourself!” 

 

Kason exhales.

 

Rash turns back to his closet. Besides the tirade, the boy has a point. Before she died his mother urged him not to take any chances with his second marriage and Sanjay plans on following her advice. Even if it’s blazing hot outside, he needs to follow tradition. And there's always the chance it might help. An olive branch to Dalla, a promise that  _ You are my wife. I would never hurt you, and I'm going to give you a child to hold and raise and love. _

 

“Fetch my red cloak,” he orders one of the service droids. It's a rich, heavy fabric that’s going to make him sweat, but the weight will be comforting when he drapes it over Dalla’s shoulders. 

 

From the back of the room, Kason scowls while dancing internally.

 

_ I did it! I gave them a clue!  _

 

_ See it, Dalla. See the wedding cloak. When he walks out, see what I did. And then run for the hills.  _

 

...

 

“I don't know what you were thinking, telling him you were married to that girl.” King Dendup sighs.

 

“But I am. What was I supposed to do? Deny it?” Saw doesn't like lying to the king, but knowing Sanjay Rash he probably has the whole place bugged. “What about you, Sire?” 

 

“I’ve known this was coming for a long time,” Dendup says. “I don't like the thought of that usurper having control of Onderon any more than you, but we’ve exhausted all our options. I can only hope that my sacrifice will give your friends the people’s support and they can work out some way to free Onderon.”

 

“How are we to do it with no king to back?” 

 

“Find a different king. Crown Bremon Kira, or Lux Bonteri, or even your wife. You need not have an existing king, only a king who will protect the people.” 

 

“If we go to a different king we’ll look desperate!” Saw doesn’t need Lux and Dalla to tell him that desperation isn’t good when you’re playing the great game. 

 

“Mr. Gerrera, you will be desperate.” Dendup sighs. “It’s not my own death that bothers me; it’s yours. I would try to convince Rash to give you clemency, but after what you said he never will. You were just trying to protect the Blackwell girl, weren’t you?” 

 

“I still am.” Not only Dalla, but Steela and Lux and every other person in that base. “What do you think he’s done with Kason?” 

 

“He won’t hurt the boy. Rash hasn’t hurt him the entire time he’s been here and I see no reason to do so now.” Saw wishes he could be as confident as Dendup sounds when he says that. “He’s more than likely preparing him for the execution.” 

 

“To watch us get our heads cut off.” 

 

“I suppose you could put it like that.” 

 

_ And not just us.  _ It’s killing him, knowing that Steela’s coming to the execution and walking straight into a trap. He doesn’t know the specifics of it, but he’s willing to bet Rash is going to hide droids wherever he can and have them jump out at his poor friends. If he knew where they were he’d shout it from the steps, but since he doesn’t it would be a meaningless suicide. What would he scream before they shot him, “It’s a trap!”? Steela already knows it’s a trap, but she’s looking for covered pits while oblivious to the nets falling from above.

 

Dendup gives him an encouraging pat on the arm. “If it’s any relief to you, it’s a mostly painless death.” 

 

“I don’t care about pain. I care about my friends.” 

 

“I dearly hope they’ll get away, Saw.” 

 

“And what if they don’t?” 

 

“Their odds are good if they know when to fold their hand. But if they don’t...well, there is one option.” 

 

Saw jumps on it. “And that is?” 

 

“The queen’s mercy. If she pardons them in front of everyone, then they could go free.”

 

That would involve Dalla marrying Rash, realizing her position, and making a conscious use of her power instead of trying to pound Rash into the pavement. Yeah, that’s not likely. “That still involves someone else marrying my wife. And then we lose the north.” 

 

“It does.” 

 

Saw wants to scream. He wants to pound the cell walls and scream at the droid guards and Kalani and General Tandin and especially Sanjay Rash. He wants to tear the palace brick from brick. He wants to badly to  _ do  _ something rather than just sitting here. 

 

But that’s not going to happen, and he’s not going to throw a tantrum in front of the king. 

 

_ Please,  _ he prays.  _ Please, please Steela. Stay home. Don’t deliver yourself into this.  _

 

…

 

At Blackhold, the northern clans prepare for war. 

 

The Blackwell navy has been on standby for a week, since Thias left. Their holds are full of weapons and the harbors with fighting men. 

 

The Harkons mobilize theirs with the speed of light. Glover and his twins race over with every vessel the family has and every weapon down to kitchen knives. Talia insists on staying behind with Adria. “It would be a crime to leave your mother alone at a time like this,” she says while bidding farewell to her husband. “We’ll be fine. Just come home safe.” 

 

“Of course I will.” Ephraim starts up the gangplank. “I’ll miss you, Talia. If it wasn’t for Momma I’d be begging you to come along with us.” 

 

“I don’t think so.” 

 

“Whyever not?” 

 

Talia smiles at him. “Let’s just say your Momma is going to be a grandmomma in a few months.” 

 

It takes a second for that to sink in, but when it does Ephraim bolts down the gangplank and sweeps his wife off her feet in an embrace, nearly weeping with joy. 

 

When the Harkons finally leave, their vassals the Kretashes join them, ready to avenge the murder of one of their own while completely unaware they’re on the way to destroy another.

 

The Bralykburns get to the Hold in record time. Hugo is also uncharacteristically cooperative. Jamos, as well as everyone else who saw the holorecording, can’t imagine why.   

 

Marlon Blackwell places half a hundred comms and writes half a hundred letters: calls to arms, orders, manifests, requests, thanks yous. As he writes, he prays to the salt gods for his children’s safety. And occasionally thinks about which parts of Sanjay Rash’s anatomy he’s going to remove if they’re harmed.

 

Fishermen sharpen their knives and refresh their skills with a blaster. Fishwives stitch sails and banners and embroider good luck symbols on the inside of their husbands’ shirts.   

 

The recordkeepers pick up their datapads and take down notes and testimonies to preserve for future generations. 

 

The north hasn’t meddled in southern affairs since the Mandalorian Wars. For the first time in four thousand years, they’re all going to war on the same side.

 

…

 

In Iziz, Dalla drips wax from a candle onto the letter and presses one of Thias’ buttons into it before it cools. It’s not her family’s seal, not exactly, but it’s the best she can manage right now. She can’t say she was happy when she first learned her brother had worn the leathers with the ship-embossed buttons (was he trying to be obvious?). Still, the buttons work as makeshift stamps. Dalla can eat crow if she has to. 

 

“Are you done?” Lux asks from his project on the other side of the room. 

 

“Yes. And you?” 

 

“I am.” Lux bundles it up in his arms and meets her while she blows out the candle. “Never would have known that seal was a button.” 

 

“I hope anyone who sees it doesn’t. Actually, I hope no one has to see it.” She swipes the sealed letter from the table and examines Lux’s handiwork. “It looks great.”

 

“Thank you. I hope she likes it.”

 

“Lux, please. Of course she’s going to love it; she has eyes.”  

 

“Well then I can only hope it’ll make her feel better after yesterday. Thanks for getting started on that end, by the way.” 

 

“I needed the drink too. How was your evening out with Ahsoka?” 

 

Lux’s eyes light up. “Amazing! After we ran our errand we went to a dumpling stall, and she loved them. We ate by the canal and there weren’t any patrols. It was -- it was like it was before the Separatists took over Onderon. Peaceful, mostly. There was no fear in the streets.” 

 

She smiles to herself. “I’m glad you had that.” 

 

“And I’m ready to make sure there are many more like it in the future.” Lux reaches for the door control. “Let’s give this to Steela.” 

 

Due to Ahsoka’s intervention and the fact Steela and Dalla were drinking wine instead of whiskey, Steela is not badly hung over. She’s merely stressed, a fact made apparent by her bleeding nail beds and razor focus on their rescue plans. She takes no notice of Lux and Dalla when they enter the briefing room. 

 

“Ahsoka, are you sure you’re going to sit this one out?” 

 

Ahsoka nods. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help. But the Council knows how strong you are. We all have the utmost confidence in your success.” 

 

“Ahsoka’s right,” Lux says and gives Steela a reassuring look. “We can do this. We’ve gone over every angle, every possibility. Your plan is going to work. We’re going to rescue the king!” 

 

“And to help make that even more ironclad, we have this.” Dalla holds out the letter. 

 

Steela takes it and examines the seal. “That’s your sigil.” 

 

“Aye, it’s a contingency plan. You’re going to make it, but if I get caught --”  _ If I have to do what I told you last night --  _ “Then that’s your ticket north. It’s a signed letter ordering all northern houses to give you shelter and anything you need to get to Blackhold. The boat I took is still in the marina, and if any northern captain stops you on the seas, show them that letter. The Hold is an impregnable fortress and my father will keep you if he sees my handwriting. You can work out a plan from there and finish what you started.” 

 

“Thank you,” Steela says and puts the letter into one of her pockets. “I hope I’ll never have to use it.” 

 

“Just in case,” Lux says. “We want you to be safe. And that’s also why we made you this.” And with that he unfurls his half of the gift: a pale green banner with a dark brown drexl stitched in the middle.

 

Steela raises an eyebrow. “Whose arms are those?”

 

“Yours,” Lux grins. “The Lady of House Gerrera needs a banner for her men to rally behind.”

 

“And for her bannermen to swear to,” Dalla interrupts.

 

“And to fly if she has to get north.” He waves the banner. “Do you like it?”

 

Steela takes the bottom end of the banner and rubs the cloth between her thumb and forefinger. “It's beautiful! How did you make this?”

 

“Dono helped a little,” Lux admits. “Actually, Dono helped a  _ lot.”  _

 

“I love it.” She beams, a real smile in spite of all the stress. “I never thought I was going to be looking at my own sigil.” 

 

“And your words. We came up with something, but it’s just an idea. You can change it if you want.” Dalla clears her throat.  _ “We will remind them.”  _

 

Steela takes her eyes from the banner.  _ “We will remind them?”  _ she repeats.

 

“It was the most memorable thing we’ve heard you say. Well, second most memorable. We didn’t think ‘sweet drexls, shut up!’ would make a very good House motto.” 

 

“It would get people’s attention,” she muses. “But I like the first one. Thank you, both of you. This is above and beyond the call of duty.” 

 

“It’s not just that. You’re a Lady now; you need a banner and a motto.” Dalla shrugs. “But you’re very welcome.” 

 

Lux hands the banner to Steela. “You really are.” 

 

She folds it up and stuffs it under her arm to make it easier to carry. “Well if there’s one thing you’ve both taught me, it’s that there’s more to being a Lady than banners. Organize the others. It’s time for the final briefing.” 

 

...

 

“Once we have everyone, we retreat back into the crowd and make for base. No detours. Does everyone understand me?” Steela orders. 

 

Everyone shouts their assent and Steela nods. 

 

“I know we all joined this cause for different reasons,” she says. “Some of us were moved to action the second Rash took the throne. Some of us lost our homes when the Separatists came. Some of us were fugitives running from Dooku or Rash. Some of us, myself included, lost our loved ones to the Separatists.

 

“But we all have the same reason to fight now. We’re going to save our rightful king!” 

 

She points to the banner mounted on the wall. 

 

“That’s our banner!” she shouts. “And this is our moment. We’re going to out there, and show King Rash and Count Dooku the people of Onderon  _ do not accept them! We want them gone!  _ And if they don’t get the hint, then we’ll chase them off our planet! Who’s going to chase them off?” 

 

_ “We are!”  _

 

“Then let’s go show them!” 

 

Everyone cheers, grabs their weapons, and spills out the door. Dalla pulls Steela aside for a second. 

 

“Steela, that was really good. How did you come up with that?” 

 

“What, the speech?” Steela asks and finishes up a final check over her blaster. “I just made it up. Gotta go, Dalla. I’ll meet you at the checkpoint!”  

Dalla smiles as she watches her go. 

 

“You’re going to be a great Lady,” she whispers.

 

…

 

With no shade, Yolahn Square is blazing hot in the midday heat. With the entire populace crammed in it’s stifling. Sweat runs down Lux’s back, and if they were anywhere else Dalla would hold out her scarf to let in a breeze. She doesn’t dare do it here. Not with Sanjay Rash himself leading the execution procession out the palace door and down the steps, flanked by a dozen battle droids. Saw’s behind him -- thank the salt gods -- along with King Dendup and, blessedly, Kason. 

 

Steela leads their group through the crowd, jockeying for what they previously deemed the most strategic position at the front of the crowd. She keeps Lux and Dalla close at hand the whole time.  

“Saw looks alright,” Lux whispers to her when Rash’s prisoners come into view. “A little tired, but he’s still standing.” 

 

“So does King Dendup. Dalla, is the blonde kid with the Magnaguards your cousin?” 

 

Dalla nods. “Rash has him tucked behind him pretty good; it’s hard to get a good look since he’s wearing that cloak. But that’s Kason for sure.” 

 

“Good. They’re clumped together, so we should be able to grab them all in one fell swoop and get out quick.” 

 

“Nobody should try anything stupid after the briefing. I think we can depend on --.” 

 

The words have hardly left her lips when someone jockeys to her side and whispers. “What did I miss?” 

 

Dalla is going to be eating crow the rest of her life. Without even looking, she collars the new arrival and yanks him close. _ “Thias, _ you’re supposed to be at base with Ahsoka!” 

 

“Ahsoka left,” Thias says. “So, I left too.” 

 

“Go back to base,” she orders. 

 

“He can’t,” Steela butts in, shooting Thias a killer glare. “The droids won’t let anyone leave. Kid, I’m going to say this only once. When we go, you stay right where you are.” 

 

“Or you’re never going to see the light of day again.” Dalla threatens. 

 

“And I won’t stop her.” 

 

Thias, sufficiently cowed, slinks back. The girls redirect their attention to the steps, specifically to the guillotine Rash preens in front of with his cloak making him look more like a holovillain than a leader. 

 

“Quite a fiancé you’ve got there. I can see why you don’t want to marry him,” Dono whispers into Dalla’s ear. 

 

Rash can’t hear her even if he cared to. “As your king, I present to you Ramsis Dendup,” he announces. “Not as a former king, but as a criminal! Sponsoring terrorist acts against the people of Onderon. But fear not, good citizens --.” 

 

“I’m fearing,” Dono snarks. “I’m fearing for the entire planet when the guy in charge thinks he can pull off a cloak like that.” Steela gives her a look and she sobers up. “What? It’s hideous,” she grumbles and walks to her position.

 

“--As your leader and protector, I will see that you are safe from such villainy. He has betrayed you. And today he will pay for those treasonous deeds with his life!” With that Rash drops a piece of fruit into the electroguillotine and the MagnaGuards activate the device. The fruit splits into two pieces, charred down the middle. 

 

Everyone flinches. In the north they use a sword for beheadings. It’s quicker, more humane than being scorched in two. But Rash doesn’t seem to want to spare Dendup any pain. One of the MagnaGuards pushes Dendup’s head into the guillotine.

 

“Wait for my signal,” Steela whispers.  

 

“Ready weapons!” Rash raises his hand to give his signal. 

 

“Not yet…”

 

Rash signals. 

 

“Now!” Steela shouts. 

 

Hutch and Dalla drop to their knees, grab their friend’s legs and hoist her into the air, a human sniper’s nest. Lux takes Steela’s rifle from under his cloak and hands it off to her. It’s all over for the MagnaGuards she sets in her crosshairs. 

 

Steela jumps down while Lux doffs the cloak for good and lobs two smoke grenades at the steps. 

 

“Come on!” He shouts and races for the guillotine. “Go! Go! Go!”  

 

The rest of them follow on, the plan coming together in seconds. Dalla blasts straight past King Dendup (he’s Steela’s job) and Rash (thank you, Lux, for pistol-whipping him) and makes a beeline for Kason and his droid escort. She blasts the droids (easy enough if you aim for the chest plate and/or you are Steela Gerrera) and tugs down her scarf a little so Kason can get a quick look at her face.

 

“Kason, it’s me.” She says. “We’re leaving now.” 

 

Kason looks horrified. “What are you doing here? You have to leave!” 

 

“We’re rescuing you!” The smoke is almost completely dissipated; they have to go now. Dalla grabs Kason’s arm and hauls him down the palace steps with the others, gathering into one group with Saw and King Dendup in tow. Steela and Lux take point, victorious.

“Follow me,” Dono urges and leads the way down the steps. “This way! Come on, let’s --!”

 

But Dono never gets to finish her sentence. Just then a Super Battle Droid emerges seemingly from nowhere and shoots her, straight through the heart. 

 

When Dono falls Steela holds her arm protectively out in front of the others and Dalla pulls Kason close. With the straightest path blocked, Steela goes for the right. Droids. Then the left. Droids. 

 

Sanjay Rash straightens up and a tactical droid says “Surrender now, or die.” 

 

Saw scowls at him and Steela looks Dalla in the eye and mouths  _ Run! _

 

But where’s she supposed to go? The droids have them surrounded. There’s no way out except -- and Dalla’s stomach churns at the realization of the only way out. 

 

“It’s over. Do as they say,” Dendup orders. 

 

The rebels set down their blasters and Dalla slowly lets go of Kason’s arm. She pushes him further into the middle of the group, toward Steela and Lux, while edging her way to the end. Logistically, it won’t be hard. Hopefully the others will block Thias from seeing anything, and Steela will keep her promise and grab Kason. With Dono it was quick. She was dead before she hit the ground. Dalla just hopes the droids keep up their good aim.  _ And if they don't  _ \-- she pulls her knife from its sheath --  _ then this will do it. This will take me back to the salt gods. _

 

She tries to swallow, but her throat feels like it’s closing. 

 

The droids force them back at blasterpoint. The crowd below boos, their combined movements looking almost like waves. They aren’t the waves she wants to sink under, but they’ll do.

 

_ Salt gods, forgive me,  _ Dalla prays and bolts away. 

 

Suddenly Thias screams “Sis,  _ no!”  _ from the crowd and breaks through the rows of people in front of him like a hot knife through butter. At the sight of him Dalla slows the smallest bit. That tiny hesitation is enough. 

 

Lux lunges forward and grabs Thias before the droids can shoot him just as a stun bolt hits Dalla square in the back and every nerve screams before she blacks out. 

 

When she comes to she can't move. Like a marionette with its strings cut, her limbs are useless and feel like they weigh a ton. It's a monumental effort to even keep her eyes open, focus through her blurry vision, and process what she’s seeing and hearing. Heck, it's a feat to keep from passing out again. 

 

_ They didn't kill me...I have to...my knife... _

 

Her knife’s clattered to the ground only about three feet away. It might as well be on Dxun. 

 

Someone comes behind her and lifts her to her feet. When her knees collapse he supports her weight, leaning her against his shoulder to keep her upright. 

 

The man lowers Dalla’s scarf and smiles at her.

 

“My lady wife,” he says. “You even wore a veil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that seems like a great place to end this chapter. We’ll be back next Friday, same bat-time, same bat-channel. Maybe not the same bat-marital status for Dalla.


	46. A Son Is Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my Uncle Steve who had his 3rd Christmas interrupted by the arrival of his little sister. And to my Momma who has had to share her birthday with the whole world every year since. ~ DK

The salt and light gifts had all been opened and not one of them had contained a ring. Shara was managing to contain her disappointment, but only just barely. In the month since they had been reunited, Jamos had been perfectly supportive. They'd had long conversations, trying to be honest with each other about their separate pasts and about their present joys and struggles. Their future and in particular the topic of marriage remained on the back burner. 

 

Shara tried to be patient and she tried even harder to drop hints that she was ready whenever he was. He had been ready before their argument. Marlon had seemed to think that his brother had meant to make an official proposal when they'd gone away together. But now…

 

Jamos stood. “I’ve got one more present I'd like to give.”

 

_ This was it, _ Shara thought. 

 

Lana gave her a wink and Marlon teased, “Oh! For me? You shouldn't have.”

 

“No, not for you, Chirn head.” Jamos grinned. “It's for Shara. But you've got to close your eyes. It's not exactly wrapped.”

 

“Alright.” She closed her eyes and so sure that the gift was going to be a ring, she extended her left hand, palm facing down so that he could slip it on her finger.

 

“No peeking?” 

 

She heard his voice come closer and she shook her head. “I'm not.” 

 

He took her hand and then rather than slip a ring onto her finger he flipped it palm up and placed within it a sheet of flimsy. 

 

“Alright, you can open them.”

 

She did so with a confused frown. “What is it?”

 

“See for yourself.” He grinned proudly. “Didn't think I'd let you have all the fun, did you? Before she went home for the holidays, I asked Niamh if there were any tests I should have run and well, she said there was this one. Just if we wanted to make sure, for when you're ready!” He qualified to assure her.

 

Shara looked again at the document. “Oh!”

 

Dalla crawled up into her lap. “Uncle Jamos test?” She asked innocently.

 

“Aye.” Shara smiled. She was still a little disappointed but she saw the humor in the gift. “Uncle Jamos took a test to see … how many fish he could catch.”

 

Marlon burst out in a laugh and Lana shook her head smiling. 

 

Dalla looked around at her parents and then back at her godmother curiously. “Did he catch a lot?”

 

“Plenty.” Shara couldn't help laughing as well.

 

Dalla jumped down and went to her uncle, lifting her arms to be picked up. “Good job, Uncle Jamos!” She told him. 

 

… 

 

“I'm sorry, Dalla. It's just not letting up.” Shara held her goddaughter up to the window to show her the snow falling outside.

 

The little girl whimpered. They'd been hoping all day to take her out to the hot springs to try out her new fishing leathers for the third night of salt and light. But now it was almost her bedtime and visibility was less than a meter in through the gale.

 

“I don't ever remember there being this much snow during salt and light.” Jamos observed still gazing outside. 

 

“There was one but you might have been to little to remember it.” Marlon sighed. “Come on, little one.” He reached out for Dalla and she went to him. “Maybe it'll clear up tomorrow if you go to bed nicely tonight.”

 

She refused until she could give Uncle Jamos a goodnight kiss. 

 

“Aunt Shara needs one, too, Chirn Bait.” He winked after obliging with a whiskery smooch. 

 

“Goodnight, love.” Shara kissed her goddaughter's cheek as well. 

 

But the little girl was still stalling, not wanting to go to bed. “What's the matter?” Marlon asked. “Didn't you get everything you wanted for salt and light?”

 

“No, I want my baby sister,” Dalla cried. 

 

“Awe, sweetheart.” Shara crooned and pushed a lock of Dalla's hair behind her ear. “There are some gifts that you really, really want for salt and light that you just have to wait on. They depend on the people you want to give them to you.” She looked back at Jamos wondering if he knew how much she wanted a particular gift from him.

 

“And for the gift you want, we really need to wait ‘til Ms Niamh gets home.” Marlon added.

 

“Ms Niamh has my present?” Dalla asked. 

 

Jamos grinned at his brother who seemed to be struggling for an answer. “Ms Niamh needs to be here when your present is delivered.”

 

This was enough to satisfy the little girl for the moment and she laid her head on her father's shoulder, sleepily. 

 

… 

 

“Are you sure you're feeling alright?” Shara asked Lana as they cleaned up the dishes by Brylk oil lantern. It had been another long day of keeping Dalla occupied indoors while the storm continued to swirl. The men put the little girl to bed with the promise, once again, that surely it would be over by the time she woke up on New year's morn.

 

“Fine.” Lana smiled, rubbing her back. “I've had a contraction or two but not close together. Don't tell Marlon though. He'll have a fit. I'm sure there's still plenty of time.”

 

Shara lifted a tray of caff things. “If you say so.” She still promised herself to keep a close eye on her friend for any signs of progressing labor.

 

Lana was humming as they walked back towards the sitting room.

 

“Now which song is that? I've heard it before but I can't remember?” Shara asked.

 

Marlon and Jamos reached the room at the same time. Jamos took the tray from Shara to set on the table and Marlon went to his wife's side to help her down into a chair. It was he who answered the question. “It's something like our family victory song.”

 

“Though it's not a pretty story,” Lana said. “If Dalla were awake I would save it for another day, but I suppose it's okay to tell it now.” She nodded her silent blessing to Marlon.

 

He nodded back. “Shara, do you remember the northernmost Flint holdfast on the mainland from your journey north? It would be right on the mouth of the river.”

 

“Aye,” she nodded slowly in recognition and seated herself comfortably on the couch for the telling of the tale. Jamos sat next to her on one side and Portia, too big now to curl up on her lap rested her head and front paws there instead. 

 

“Well, it didn't always belong to House Flint. Originally it was the seat of House Shechel, a family of traders,” Marlon explained. 

 

“Shechel?” Shara repeated. “I’ve never heard that name before. Where are they now?”

 

Lana looked out the window. “Gone.”

 

“Gone is a light way of putting it,” Jamos elucidated. “Most say wiped out. Slaughtered.”

 

Marlon picked up the story before Shara could utter any exclamations of shock. “A long time ago, House Kira and House Blackwell tried to mend their feud with a marriage alliance. Lord Kira’s heir, Modon, was betrothed to Lord Blackwell’s daughter, Dina.”

 

“The negotiations were tense, but they turned out alright,” Lana continued. “Dina was a beast master and she and Modon found common ground over their shared love of animals. They got along quite well and seemed fond of each other. When the time came for the wedding, Dina was excited to go south and be with the beasts and Modon was waiting for her at Kira Fortress.”

 

“With a dalgos of her own for her bridal gift,” Shara remembered. To the Blackwells’ confused looks, she explained: “There's a beast rider’s song about a man waiting at the river by Kira Fortress holding a dalgos’ reins for his bride who never comes. But if she was so excited, and the families agreed…?”

 

“The families were happy and so were Modon and Dina,” Marlon explained. “But House Shechel wasn't. They made their living off being the liaison between the north and the south, and when they thought of the credits they would lose if the two great families had an alliance, they decided it couldn't happen.

 

“The Shechels waited until the Blackwells reached the mouth of the river and then they set upon them, boarded the ship and murdered everyone aboard, including Dina and her father.” 

 

Shara and Lana both gasped and Portia barked. Shara was so engrossed in the story that she had almost forgotten she was supposed to be observing her friend. 

 

Lana's hands were on her belly and she was now breathing out slowly but when she noticed Shara staring at her, she shook her head ever so slightly and glanced at Marlon sitting next to her. She obviously still didn't want to worry her husband. 

 

Neither Marlon nor his brother seemed to have noticed anything was amiss, so Shara kept up the deception and determined to keep the attention on herself rather than Lana at least for now. “They killed the bride and her father and the whole crew just to prevent the alliance?”

 

“Well the plan supposedly was to place the blame on the Kiras.” Jamos explained. “But the bride’s brothers had stayed back at the Hold planning to sail down later, and they weren't fooled.”

 

“They realized who was responsible for their father’s and sister’s deaths and took the entire navy to the Shechels’ home,” Marlon continued. “In the dead of night they stormed the holdfast and captured the entire clan.”

 

Shara snuck another glance to Lana, who appeared to be relaxing after her last contraction. 

 

“The ringleaders were beheaded on the spot,” Marlon continued. “Once they’d been executed, the brothers loaded everyone else onto their ship and took them back to Blackhold. There they sat in the dungeon for quite a while and must have thought the brothers planned to keep them there forever…”

 

“Though that wasn't the case,” Jamos interrupted. 

 

“No it wasn't. While they were in the dungeon, the Shechels managed to contact House Kira and begged them to make the Blackwells show mercy. The Kiras weren't pleased, especially Modon who was so enraged that his betrothed’s killers had commed him for mercy that he commed the Blackwells to tell them that if they didn't want the Shechels, he'd happily feed them to dalgos.”

 

Shara shuddered. She had seen dalgos rend living flesh. Portia whimpered and Shara petted the cog’s head comfortingly. “So House Kira and House Blackwell were still sort of allied,” she glanced over at Lana and saw her face contorting into a grimace once again. She worried but she looked away so as not to draw unwanted attention. “Though with a much darker purpose.” She almost hated to ask. “What did they do with the captives in the dungeon?”

 

“Shortly after the comm to the Kiras, the Shechels found out why the Blackwells had kept them captive for so long.” Marlon glanced out the window, to something invisible through the current storm. “They were waiting for the Flint stonemasons to finish a project.”

 

“They’d commissioned the Flints to carve the sea stairs,” Jamos said. “The stairs faced the Shechels’ lands, and on either side of the steps were the heads of the ringleaders on pikes.”

 

Shara’s hand flew to cover her mouth. 

 

Marlon continued. “The eldest Blackwell brother addressed the traitorous clan. ‘You killed our father and our sister who did nothing to you, but we’ll show you the mercy you didn't show to them. You want to go home? Well, go ahead and take a walk.’”

 

“Salt gods.” Shara whispered and made the sign. 

 

Jamos took the opportunity to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her close to comfort her from the horror. 

 

Marlon smirked at them. 

 

Shara blushed and looked up at the man she loved. She snuggled against him before she asked, “And so the Kiras and Blackwells never tried again for a marriage alliance?”

 

“Never had the chance.” Marlon shrugged. “In all those years that was the one time that heirs from both houses were of marriageable age at the same time.”

 

“That and Dalla is the first Blackwell girl in a dozen generations.” Jamos added stroking her hair.

 

Shara laid her head on his shoulder comfortably. “If Brem’s baby had been a boy he would have been just Dalla's age. Mel was sure she was having a girl though.” She was feeling a little sleepy and would have been content to doze off right there, in Jamos's arms with Portia's head resting on her lap.

 

That is until Lana finally spoke up clutching her belly and panting through what must have been a very painful contraction. “Speaking of Blackwell babies, I think this one is just about ready to make an appearance.”

… 

The giant cognine whined. Jamos laid his hand on the big beast's head. He no longer had to bend down to pet the creature who had once been so small and cuddly, curled up on Shara's lap. “It's alright, girl. She'll be out soon. She didn't mean anything by it.”

 

Shara had shooed both Jamos and Marlon and the big beast out of the room. It wasn't because there was any sort of stigma for men of the North not to be in the room when a child was born. It was just the fact that this was the first human birth that Shara had ever attended and she was rather nervous to have father and uncle looking over her shoulder.

 

Lana, lying on the modified birthing couch, breathing through ever strengthening contractions, didn't even seem as anxious as Shara was about being the nearest thing to a midwife available during the current blizzard. “You’ve done this with dalgos,” Lana panted. “And you’ve learned so much from Niamh. I trust you.”

 

Marlon had gone quiet. No doubt he was praying to the salt gods to allow his wife and second child to both come through the experience healthy and whole.

 

It was the stillness and quiet that were driving Jamos crazy. The thick walls kept out the howl of the wind and the stones of the floor didn't rock like the comforting motion of his ship. He almost thought of taking Portia out for a walk, but even the cognine, bred for the harsh winter in the North, could have been lost in the maelstrom that roared outside.

 

And then they heard the sound that they had all been waiting for, the wailing of a healthy newborn. Portia gave a loud bark and Marlon ran for the birthing room without waiting for an invitation.

 

Jamos had his work cut out for him holding back the beast who also wanted to get a look at the new baby. “Nope, not you, girl. They don't need you slobbering all over everything.” He was smiling, proud of Shara already for the part she had played.

 

“I have a son!” Marlon's voice rang out. He rushed back into the hall and crushed his brother in an excited hug.

 

Jamos laughed. “That's wonderful! Congratulations!”

 

Shara made sure that mother and son were cleaned up and resting peacefully before she finally, exhausted, made her way back out of the room to Jamos and their pet. She gave Portia a tired pat on the head and then practically fell into Jamos's waiting arms.

 

“He’s beautiful, everything went smoothly, and they are both as well as can be,” she sighed against his chest.

 

Jamos kissed her hair. “You saved the day.”

 

“Oh, I don't know about that. Lana did all the work.” She grinned.

 

“Marlon said they're calling him Thias.”

 

“Mmmhmm…” she agreed sleepily.

 

She sounded as if she might doze off at any moment and Jamos just held her. Until she whispered, “kind of makes you think about having one of our own?”

 

“Does it?” He asked, hardly daring to hope.

 

“Well maybe not right away but, you’d have to do something first.”

 

“What's that?” He would do anything for her she only had to say the word.

 

She looked up at him smiling and fully awake. “Marry me?”

 

He just gazed at her thinking of all of the times he had asked her over the last couple of years and she had put him off, said she wasn't ready. And now she was asking him. He thought his heart would burst.

 

“Well?” She prompted with that not-to-be-disobeyed northern woman glint in her eyes.

 

“Aye!” He kissed her. “Aye today…” he kissed her again. “And tomorrow…” another kiss “and everyday till eternity!” He picked her up and swung her around.

 

Shara cried out with laughter and Portia started barking wildly along with her.

 

Just then Dalla came padding out of her bedroom in her slippered feet, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Is my sister here yet?” She asked.

 

Shara extricated herself from her husband-to-be and knelt before the little girl. “You have a baby brother.”

 

“And you're going to have an Aunt, officially!” Jamos added dropping down beside them.

 

Shara shoved him playfully. “Would you like to go and meet your brother, Dalla?”

 

She nodded, “aye,” and her uncle scooped her up into his arms.

 

“What was all the noise about?” Marlon asked as the three of them entered the room where mother and son were resting.

 

Lana smiled at her daughter and patted the bed next to her, an invitation for the little girl to climb up and see the baby.

 

Jamos grinning, whispered loudly to answer his brother, “She finally said, aye.”

 

“Well, technically, he said, aye,” Shara corrected.

 

“It's about time,” Lana said, not looking up from her children.

 

Marlon put an arm around each of them and squeezed. “No need to wait any longer. I don't think Thias would mind sharing his birthday with a wedding anniversary. Do you, Dear?”

 

“You'll excuse me if I don't rise for the occasion.” Lana smiled.

 

“No, please,” Shara said. “Stay where you are.”

 

“You're okay with this?” Jamos asked taking both her hands in his. “Right here and now? No fancy clothes or flowers or guests?”

 

She grinned up at him. “This is exactly what I want. Right here, with our family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re finally getting married!!! Yay! Here’s hoping the same isn’t true for Dalla in LS’s next chapter. Thank you again for reading and please leave us a comment!


	47. It's All Over Now Baby Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense
> 
>  
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> Take what you have gathered from coincidence.
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>  
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> The empty-handed painter from your streets
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>  
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> Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets.
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> The sky, too, is folding under you
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>  
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> And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
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>  
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> That's enough Bob Dylan for now. We left Dalla on the steps of the palace, stunned, and in Sanjay Rash’s arms. We return to her in the same awful position. - LS

Dono’s scarf lies crumpled on the palace steps, a colorful shock against the drab brick. When she’s conscious enough to realize what it is, Dalla’s only groggy thought is  _ wait, why isn’t it on my head?  _

 

Sanjay Rash deftly unwinds the scarf from her head and casts it to the ground after making the comment about her veil, and then leans Dalla against him. His arms are the only thing keeping her upright, and he’s wicked strong. 

 

Instead of the scarf there’s something else weighing on her neck, something very red.  _ Blood. It’s blood. Did I do it? Did I cut my own throat? If I did then why am I still alive?  _

 

The blood doesn’t trickle so Dalla experimentally goes to touch it, even though her arm feels more like a flipper. 

 

“Don’t knock the necklace askew,” Rash whispers and pushes her arm back down to her side. He awkwardly juggles her in one arm while fiddling around his shoulders with the other. A second later he composes himself, straightens the bloodred necklace, and settles a heavy cloak around her shoulders. 

 

_ A bride’s cloak,  _ she realizes with sudden clarity.  _ If it’s a bride’s cloak, then this must be the necklace he gave Aunt Shara, and that means --  _ her eyes go huge --  _ oh no no no.  _

 

She tries to pull away and shove the cloak off her shoulders, but even trying to hold her own weight sends her spiralling back to darkness. Rash wraps his other arm around her, holding her close and clamping the cloak in place. 

 

“Hush, you’re alright,” he whispers to her, and then to the crowd in a loud and jovial voice: “It seems even ladies fall prey to bride jitters.” 

 

Dalla shuffles her feet trying to gain purchase on the ground and ignores the black spots poking at her vision. Rash’s grip is like a vise, and there’s no way she’s breaking it until the stun pulse wears off more.  _ Scream Dalla, scream! Don’t let him pass off this bride jitters story!  _

 

Her voice only comes in harsh hiccups and Rash rubs a soothing circle on her back in response. “Shh. Everything is going to be fine, just relax and let me take care of you.” 

 

She tries again and this time he kisses her forehead. His beard itches. For some reason that repulses her more than the kiss itself. 

 

There’s a recording playing, of an old sour-faced woman. It’s so loud Dalla has no idea how she didn’t notice it before. 

 

_ “I will not be alive to see it,”  _ the woman in the recording says.  _ “But I, Lady Sanda Rash, give my permission and my blessing for my son, His Highness King Sanjay Rash, to marry Lady Dalla Blackwell.”  _

 

_Oh salt gods, now? He’s doing it right now?_ She has to get out of here, but her legs don’t work. She needs to scream, but her voice doesn’t work. Rash nestles her head against his chest when the recording cuts out and holds it in place with his hand over her exposed ear. With her ears covered she can’t hear what exactly he’s saying, but it sounds like he’s reading. What in the salt gods’ names could he be reading? She squirms as best she can and tries to claw off the necklace. A murmur goes up from the crowd. 

 

Rash uncovers her ear and fiddles with her left hand before taking it in his own. “It’s not too tight,” he whispers, nodding to the necklace. “I’ll take it off once we get inside. You’d agree to that, wouldn’t you? Speak up, now.”

 

“Why, you -- Dalla,  _ don’t say anything!”  _ Lux bellows from behind her. 

 

Lux. Dalla cranes her head over her shoulder to get a better look. In the split second before her vision blurs out and Rash spins her around to block her line of sight, she sees them: the rebels held back by droids, a MagnaGuard threatening a furious Lux with its electrostaff for his outburst, Steela and Saw fixing Rash with identical glares, poor Dono dead on the steps, Thias spitting and swearing, Kason’s mouth frozen open in a silent scream. King Dendup’s head back in the guillotine. 

 

Rash lets go of her hand with a final squeeze and tips her chin up to meet his eyes, eyes he doesn’t have a right in the galaxy to share with Miranda. 

 

“Yes?” It’s not a question. 

 

Dalla tries to scream. 

 

Luckily Rash takes it that she’s physically unable to say anything, be it the vows he wants or the curses she needs. “We’ll try again in a minute,” he whispers, ducks for a second and scoops her off her feet, wrapping the cloak around her and immobilizing her like so much a swaddled baby.

 

“The wedding will be held inside,” he says to the crowd. “I wish you all could witness it, but we all must make concessions --” he squeezes Dalla on concessions -- “In life. Until then, watch as these traitors all endure the same punishment.” 

 

The droids force the rebels into a line after Dendup. Lux first (best to kill the heir the second he rises), then Saw (he really must have said something to make Rash mad), followed by Steela (it wouldn’t do for the rebellion’s leader to go on living), and Hutch and lastly, Thias. 

 

_ Thias!  _ Dalla thrashes as hard as she can, ignoring the pounding in her head and her spinning vision.  _ I’m coming Thias, I’m coming! I won’t let them take your head. I’m going to get to you. Just hold on! _

 

Rash pins her arms. “Hold still. What could possibly have upset you so much? They’re traitors, my lady wife.” 

 

Dalla pitches herself forward, stun pulse be damned. She’ll crawl to her brother if she has to. 

 

“That kid’s not one of us,” Steela says and jerks her head to Thias. “He’s just some idiot who was running along for fun.” 

 

“He is,” Lux agrees. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Let him go! He doesn’t deserve this!” 

 

But Thias, ever the philosopher, doesn’t agree. Red-faced, he screams “Get your hands off my sister, you frakking kark!” 

 

Rash freezes for a second at being called a “frakking kark” before it hits him. “Bring the boy back with Kason,” he orders and then smiles down at Dalla. “Hush. The crisis is over; your brother is fine.”

 

The crisis might be diminished, but it most certainly isn't over. Dalla gulps a lungful of air and finally accomplishes a high, thready screech. And from the crowd’s reaction, it looks like the people in the front heard it. 

 

“It's the stun pulse,” Rash tries to explain, but it's not working. The murmur grows. The people of Onderon are not idiots, and Rash knows he needs to reassert his strength to keep this kettle from boiling over. He nods to the MagnaGuards. “Ready weapons and open the palace door. The lady and I are going inside as soon as Dendup is dead.”

 

_ Oh no you don't!  _ Dalla kicks against the cloak hoping to unwrap it somehow, but the MagnaGuards are already poised to deliver the pulse to the electroguillotine. She only has one arm even working at all, and a shadow of her voice. It may be in vain, she may be dragged into the palace but there's no way she's going in without a fight. 

 

Thias turns to the crowd and screams  _ “Do something!”  _ Dalla works her one functioning arm out of the cloak and makes a fist. 

 

“You know what?” Saw speaks up from the guillotine line. “Melaana would be  _ disgusted  _ if she could see this!”

 

Rash drops Dalla like a hot potato and doesn't even notice her missed swing at him. She hits the ground with a dull thump.

 

“You,” he growls and points at Saw, “Are not even worthy to mention her name!” 

 

Dalla scrambles to a sitting position. Willing the spots to fade from her vision, she pushes the cloak off her shoulders. 

 

“Oh yeah? I'm not the one spitting on her memory!”

 

“Don’t speak of things you know nothing about!”  Rash shouts. He bends at the waist and goes to grab Dalla under the arms. She swings again with her elbow and this time the blow hits home, but his doublet is thick like armor and Rash is too furious to feel it. While he lifts her she kicks, beating his feet and shins. No reaction. He’s like a monster, impervious to pain.

 

“No,” she gasps and then screams at the top of her lungs:  _ “Nooooo!”  _

 

Rash jerks with shock and the crowd boos. 

 

“Dalla!” He whispers. “Dalla, calm down. I've got you.”

 

_ “Let go of me!” _

 

“You’ve been stunned; you’re not thinking straight,” he says. “You need some time to get your bearings, out of the sun. Let me take you inside.” He pins her arms behind her back and yanks her back a step. “Come along, we’re leaving now. Guards, ready weapons.”

 

The MagnaGuards light their electrostaves and shift into a strike position. 

 

“No!” Dalla screeches. Even she's not certain if that's to Rash or the MagnaGuards.

 

The crowd erupts into protests.

 

“They’re innocent! Let them go!”

 

“Release the girl!”

 

“Kingslayer!” 

 

But Rash ignores all of them and lifts his chin to give the signal for the MagnaGuards to execute Dendup. “This snake will not strike again!”

 

_ “STOP!”    _ A familiar voice shatters the chaos, leaving a ringing silence in its place. 

 

“What?” Rash hisses and turns around, spinning Dalla with him. From somewhere behind them, Thias cheers. 

 

General Tandin charges out of the palace doors with the entire strength of the royal militia behind him. And he looks furious. 

 

“The only snake I see, sire,” he spits. “Is you!” 

 

The militiamen surround the droids, laser lances held to their enemies. 

 

“It’s over, Rash,” Dalla grunts and wrestles against his grip. “Let go of me!” 

 

Rash shakes his head frantically as he watches his own men turn on him. Tandin doesn’t waste time with the droids. Instead he advances directly on Rash. 

 

“Traitor,” Rash snarls. 

 

“I was. Not anymore,” Tandin corrects him. And with that he looks over to Saw and nods. Saw nods back, a tiny smile on his face.

 

_ He hasn’t been a traitor for a long time,  _ Dalla thinks.  _ He stopped being one ever since he didn’t kidnap me. _

 

“Give me the girl, sire.” Tandin demands. 

 

Rash tightens his grip on Dalla. “I won’t. You can’t take my wife from me.” 

 

“She is not your wife. All this time, you said you would be good to her and now’s the time for you to keep your word. Look at her; she’s terrified. Now do right by her and let her go.” 

 

“General, don’t do this,” he pleads so quietly only Tandin and Dalla can hear. “She’s my last chance!” 

 

_ “Give me the girl or you’re a dead man!”  _

 

Rash backs away and pulls Dalla closer, inadvertently bringing her legs straight under her instead of cantilevered in front. Finally, she has some leverage. Dalla kicks him in the knees with all her might. 

 

He cries out and instinctively grabs his knee, and Dalla bolts. Tandin gets between the two of them with the speed of light and puts his lance to Rash’s neck. 

 

Dalla closes her fist around the ruby necklace and frantically pulls. She’s too wired to unclasp it -- she doesn’t even know how to unclasp it -- and she doesn’t have time to figure it out. A few almighty tugs later and the clasp breaks with a tiny snap. The bloodred gems fall away from her neck, finally ending the illusion that her throat’s been cut. 

 

The droids release the rebels and Lux gently guides Dendup out of the guillotine  The crowd cheers. 

 

Thias and Kason swarm to Dalla’s side, followed by Saw.

 

“Can you walk?” Saw demands. 

 

“I think so.” The broken necklace slides through her fingers like the many snakes it depicts. Not wanting to touch or even look at the thing any longer, she hurls it as far away as she can.

 

“Thias, grab one of those vibroblades and cut me loose,” Saw orders and holds up his bound wrists.  Thias snaps to obey and grabs a blade. “You take one arm and I’ll take the other. If her legs quit on her completely, we’re carrying her.” 

 

On the steps, Tandin grabs Rash and puts him into a headlock when the rebels get closer. 

 

“What are you doing, general?” Rash shouts and struggles in Tandin’s hold, but it’s no use. 

 

Tandin ignores him and instead looks to King Dendup. “Go,” he orders.  

 

He doesn’t need to tell Steela twice. She and Lux each grab one of Dendup’s arms and rush him down the steps and into the crowd. Saw and Dalla follow them with Thias and Kason bringing up the rear. The people part when they descend the steps. 

 

“Let them through!” Someone shouts. “Make way! Make way for the king!” 

 

The royal militia catches up to them when they reach the back of the crowd. “The general’s still holding Rash,” one of them tells Steela and Dendup after jockeying to the head of the group. “He ordered us to go with you.” 

 

“We’re glad to have you,” Steela says. “Everyone, split up! We can’t have Rash track us to base on the security feeds.” 

 

“Then don’t stay on the security feeds,” someone pipes up. 

 

Their heads snap to the alley they’re about to pass and a small figure emerges from the shadows. It’s Werda, the girl who told Dono and Dalla about the royal carriage. 

 

“The people are holding back the droids to give you a head start but you still don’t have much time,” she says. “There’s an entrance to the tunnels close by; I can take you back to base. You know I know my way around them better than anyone.”

 

“Why should we trust you?” Steela demands. 

 

Werda’s lip wobbles. “They killed my friend.” 

 

Dono. Dalla remembers what she said while they waited for the royal carriage: _I’m the closest thing she has to a friend._

 

“Werda hasn’t ratted on us in the past. She’s got no reason to do it now,” Saw says. 

 

“And she’s good at disappearing, which we need to do,” Lux adds. 

 

Steela nods. “Werda, you’d better know where you’re going. Everyone, into the tunnels! Let’s go!”

 

...

 

Sanjay Rash stumbles up the palace stairs, each step stinging. Gods, what did Dalla Blackwell have in her boots, duracrete? For such a tiny girl, she sure can kick. 

 

He takes a second to massage his knees at the top of the stairs and then limps toward the comm room. He shouldn't be headed there. He should be carrying Dalla into his quarters and reassuring her that everything was going to be fine, that she was his queen now. 

 

But he doesn't have Dalla. He watched her run away with her terrorist husband, leaving Sanjay nothing but sore knees. And now here he is, running to the comm room to give Dooku his side of the story before he can see it on the net.

 

Sanjay runs into the comm room and enters Dooku’s frequency. There's still a chance. Dooku’s a busy man. He has other concerns than Onderon, maybe he was attending to one of those during the execution. He might not have seen --

 

Count Dooku’s scowling face materializes above the holotable. 

 

_ “Sanjay Rash. How are your knees?” _

 

Yep, he saw it.

 

“My lord,” he quickly pulls himself together. “We’ve had a minor setback.”

 

_ “A minor setback?” _ Dooku repeats.  _ “If memory serves the rebels escaped with Dendup, your best general, your ‘stepson’, and the bride you supposedly had well in hand.” _

 

Sanjay tries to backpedal. “We’re already scouring the security feeds. It’s only a matter of time before we locate them and their base of operations, and we can stamp them out.” 

 

_ “Or will that transpire just like this botched execution?”  _ Dooku demands.  _ “The people are turning against you. They watched your child bride make you look like a fool. How am I to believe you can control a planet if you can’t control a teenage girl?” _

 

“It was General Tandin.” Thank the gods he can find a scapegoat for this. “His loyalty seemed absolute. He played us all for fools.” 

 

_ “Let this be a lesson that droids are superior to organic commanders.”  _ Dooku’s snakelike eyes bore into Sanjay’s own.  _ “And this will be the last lesson. You’ll rein in this planet, or I will install someone who can. Do you understand?”  _

 

Sanjay hangs his head. “Yes, my lord.” 

 

Dooku signs off without another word and Sanjay stalks off to his chambers to nurse his aching knees. 

 

_ I can’t believe this,  _ he sulks and settles onto his couch.  _ She was right there. I had her, and Kason and her brother, and Dendup too. All of them! I was so close... _

 

_ I should have taken her into the palace before she woke up. Then I’d at least have her. She’s so small, I thought I could keep hold of her.  _

 

If things had gone right today he’d still be on this couch, but he’d have Dalla with him. He would sit her down next to him, take her hand, and tell her she had very pretty eyes. Girls liked to hear they had pretty eyes. 

 

He’d had the entire speech prepared, and none of it came from his mother. It was all his idea, to introduce himself and calm his wife down after their marriage. Even right before he walked out to the execution he ran the main points over in his head:  _ you have pretty eyes. You can call me Sanjay. I understand you’re nervous, but you have nothing to fear from me. You are my queen. I'm going to take care of you. I’m going to give you a child.  _

 

_ And I meant all of it!  _ He mentally kicks himself.  _ Bride jitters wear off. All I had to do was bring her up here and she would have been fine!  _

 

_ Well that's isn't strictly true,  _ he admits when his eye catches a bottle of wine sitting beside one of his chairs. It's a fine vintage, and a very potent one, from his late mother’s collection. She drank it on days that her medications didn't quite knock out her pain, and a glass was all it took. If it’s strong enough to dull the pain from Fartrad’s disease, then it would take the edge off a teenager’s nerves. 

 

Had everything gone right he would have poured a glass, taken a single sip to put Dalla at ease, and then had her drink the rest. And when the wine had flushed her face and dulled her senses, then he would take her into his arms to fulfill his last promise. 

 

Sanjay’s mind snaps off the scene before it can go any further. Gods, why does he feel like he needs a bath just thinking about consummating his marriage? Sure, Dalla’s young and he didn't realize how small she was until he held her on the palace steps, but none of that bothers him. At least it didn't bother him this morning. Shara was petite at seventeen too, and he likes that in a woman.

 

Is that it, the fact Dalla isn't Shara? He’ll admit it's a disappointment, but it doesn't affect his ability to perform. He can do it to consummate the marriage. He can do it for a child. So what is it that’s bothering him? 

 

_ She was afraid,  _ he realizes. He never wanted his wife to be afraid of him, and he felt her trembling in his arms despite his holding and soothing. That must be it, but wine is an easy antidote for that. Ghosts of Dxun, if Melaana hadn’t married Bremon Kira first, Mother planned to give her the same advice for her wedding night with the Lieutenant! 

 

Melaana.

 

_ “You know what? Melaana would be  _ disgusted  _ if she could see this!”  _

 

_ “I can’t marry Dane because I’m already married to Bremon Kira. I love him and I’m going to have his child.”  _

 

_ “Get your hands off my sister, you frakking kark!” _

 

_ “No! No! Let go of me!”  _

 

Sanjay’s stomach sinks like a stone and then rises back into his throat with sickening speed, but that's the least of what makes him nauseous. He knows with absolute certainty this is what's bothering him.

 

Melaana was a little thing too. She had a few inches on Dalla, but still. And she had an issue with a betrothal too; Sanjay remembers her distress at her betrothal party as she frantically wrote to Bremon Kira while he stood by to escort her to Dane Bonteri in the ballroom below. He knew that if Dane didn’t break the betrothal, or their parents kept pushing, that Mel would call in her Bremon for a rescue quick as anything. If she couldn’t get away, then she’d have fought and kicked as hard as she could. And Sanjay would have helped her. Melaana was everything light and good in the galaxy, she didn’t deserve to be bartered away to someone she didn’t love. She was a person, not some piece of furniture!

 

The realization hits Sanjay like a bolt of lightning:  _ and so is Dalla.  _

 

It’s like Melaana whispered it in his ear and the revelation soon takes on a life of its own. Before what happened today he’d run his explanation over and over in his head a hundred times and it never seemed complete. Now he knows what it’s missing: Dalla’s responses. 

 

Hello, Dalla. You have very pretty eyes.  _ What, is that supposed to make me like you? You think I’m going to melt into your arms because you said something you don’t mean? _

 

No, I really do think you have pretty eyes. I would like for us to be friendly, and that starts with shedding these formalities. Please call me Sanjay.  _ Not now, not tomorrow, not in the salt gods’ halls.  _

 

My little wife --  _ Don’t you dare call me that! Get away from me! _

 

“Oh gods.” Sanjay clasps his hands over his stomach to numb the sick feeling, then throws in the towel and massages his temples instead. “Oh  _ gods.”  _

 

He’s made a mistake. This is the biggest mistake he’s made since he called Shara a whore seventeen years ago, and maybe not even then. Back then he still knew about Shara what he’s conveniently forgotten now. 

 

Dalla Blackwell is not a pawn or a vessel or a doll to be played with. She is a girl.

 

Sanjay doubles over on the couch. If someone treated Melaana the way he treated Dalla, he’d kill them. He’d tear them apart with his bare hands. And yet he did the same to someone else’s sister without batting an eye.  _ No wonder she was so scared. I would be scared too, if someone picked me up and said wedding vows over my stunned body. Especially the same man I thought killed my best friend… _

 

_ Oh gods.  _

 

He can feel his sister’s disapproving glare from beyond the grave. Her eyes, and the poor lost Harkon girl’s, and Shara’s and Dalla’s. For a second Sanjay thinks he’s going to throw up.

 

He swallows. 

 

_ Oh gods. _

 

_ I need to do something. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No regicide! No execution! Sanjay’s conscience is giving him a swift kick in the pants! There’s a much better wedding on the way for the next chapter! And Dalla is still single! If you’re happy (or disappointed) about any of this, please let us know in the comments section. We would love to hear your thoughts!


	48. Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're getting married!!! Okay so where were we? Oh right! Right here, with our family. ~ DK

“Aye, here with our…” His eyes widened and he smiled. “I’ll be right back I have to get something.” Jamos ran out of the room. 

 

“Where is that boy off to now?” Lana asked. 

 

Marlon laughed. “I'm sure he’ll tell us soon enough. He’s waited long enough for this day.”

 

Then Shara gave a little gasp. “There's something I have to get too!” and with that she ran out of the room as well.

 

“Do you know what that's about?” Marlon asked his wife. He sat next to her on the bed. And kissed his son and daughter each on their foreheads.

 

Dalla giggled.

 

Lana smiled. “I have an idea and I'm sure they'll both be back soon. You'd better find the ceremony on your datapad if you're going to perform it.”

 

“Oh, aye!” Marlon got distracted and snapped a few Holo stills of his little family before he got down to the business of looking up the form and correct words to say. 

 

He was reading it over, trying to familiarize himself with the text, mumbling and pacing, when the bride returned. 

 

Shara carried the net in her hands that she and Jamos had been caught up with at Maris and Ness’s wedding, along with a book. She looked around the room for her groom and then frowned at Marlon. “What's he doing?” She asked Lana.

 

“It's his first time officiating a wedding.” She smirked.

 

Shara grinned or rather her grin widened. She couldn't get much more excited than she already was. “He looks more nervous than I was delivering a baby for the first time.” Both women laughed and Dalla giggled. The little girl couldn't possibly understand what was going on here, in her parents’ room, in the middle of the night, but everyone else seemed to be happy about it so she was happy too.

 

“Marlon,” Lana attempted to interrupt his musing. 

 

“Hmm?” He grunted.

 

“Marlon, you need to open the window,” she told him.

 

“What? Oh.” He looked around the room and then frowned. “But it’s freezing outside.”

 

“Yes, but…” Lana led. 

 

“Oh! Aye!” Marlon zipped over to the window. He pulled back the curtain and pushed open the pane just a crack. It welcomed a swirl of snowflakes along with a frigid draft and a shrill whistle of the wind. “Must have the blessing of the salt gods.” He made the sign reverently toward darkness beyond.

 

Shara looked at Lana questioningly and the lady answered, “That window faces in the direction of the salt formation. It’s only right that something so important should be performed in the light of the salt gods.” 

 

“Of course.” Shara was thankful her friend had thought of it. She faced the open window, pressed her thumb to her lips and then held out her hand. With eyes closed she said a silent prayer asking a blessing on the ceremony and the marriage to follow. Then she shivered. 

 

“Burr.” Lana pulled the blanket a little higher over herself and Dalla and the baby. Thias squirmed, warm in his mother’s arms. “At least Shara will be wrapped up. Speaking of which,” She pointed toward the door to the walk in closet she shared with her husband. “There’s a cloak in there you can use, the blue velvet, and if you could, bring me the sailor’s valentine box on the top shelf. It’ll be the dark wood one with the peach colored flower design on top.”

 

“I know the one. I’ll get it.” Shara loved Lana’s collection of the boxes that had been gifts from Marlon through the years. She set down the book and binding cloth and went to look. Once she was in the wardrobe it was easy to find the cloak that her friend had mentioned. She came back into the room with the requested items just as Jamos breezed in from the hall. 

 

“Found it!” He grinned. “Sorry it took so long. Here I’ll help you with that.” He set down a small velvet box and…  was that a holo projector? And went eagerly to his bride. He took the box from her hand and gave it to Lana, before he wrapped the cloak around Shara's shoulders. “I’ve been wanting to do that…”

 

“Since our first voyage?” Shara finished for him. 

 

“Aye.” 

 

They gazed at each other. 

 

“Well, tell us what was so all fired important for you to find before we could get this over with?” Marlon complained sarcastically. 

 

“Oh! Aye!” Jamos considered the two items he had brought with him into the room and decided on the jewelry box. “This first. You already said aye but…” He opened the box to show Shara what was inside. “I didn’t think you’d want anything really big and flashy and I definitely didn’t want it to get in the way of your baking.” 

 

Shara laughed. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

 

He removed the pearl and rose gold ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. Then before he could lose his nerve, it seemed, he turned and picked up the other item. It  _ was _ a holoprojector. “I’ve had this for a long time, too. And I… well…” He looked more serious now and Shara wondered what it could possibly be. “Well, I’ll just show you.”

 

She gasped when the image of her father rose from the device. “ _ Though I may not be alive to see it _ ,” the man on the med center bed said. “ _ I, Kason Rupingwood, give my permission and my blessing for my daughter, Shara Irena Rupingwood, to marry _ …” he looked to the side of the recording device. “ _ What's your full name again young man? _ ”

 

Jamos's voice mumbled an answer.

 

Kason continued, “ _ Oh right. Shara girl _ ,” he looked right into the recorder. “ _ You have my blessing to marry Jamos Emoth Blackwell. _ ”

 

Shara had tears in her eyes but her father wasn't finished. “ _ And he had better be good to you or I'll come and haunt him with all the fires of Dxun on my heels! _ ”

 

“Father!” Shara exclaimed.

 

And almost as if he could hear her, he laughed. “ _ Love you, darlin _ .”

 

Jamos noticed Shara sob and paused the Holo. “Are you alright? I didn't…” he set down the projector unit and went to her placing comforting hands on her shoulders. I didn't want to make you sad. I only thought…”

 

“I'm not sad, Jamos. Well, I guess I am a little, but you have given me… it's like he's really here with us. Thank you.” 

 

He wiped the tears from her cheeks and bent to kiss her to which she eagerly reciprocated.

 

“Hey now! Hold on!” Marlon complained. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. That bit goes at the very end. It says so in the holo.”

 

Jamos stole one last kiss before he grinned and allowed her to go and retrieve the binding cloth. When she did so she also picked up the book she had brought into the room with her. “Oh! There's one more thing I wanted to do first.”

 

Marlon threw up his hands in mock exasperation. 

 

Shara smiled nervously and ignored him, her focus on her groom. “I know it's not part of the official ceremony but Lana said these extra vows were sometimes included in the northern tradition and I wanted…” She broke off speaking while she flipped to the page and then while she held the book with one hand she reached out to take Jamos's with the other.

 

He gladly squeezed the proffered hand and smiled encouragingly.

 

“I will voyage where you voyage and I will find rest in your harbor.” She read the first two lines staring down at the page but then she glanced up at her grinning groom and recited the rest from memory. “Your clan will be my clan and your gods my gods.” 

 

The rest of the ceremony would be the official standard words spoken at all Onderonian weddings. Shara had repeated the words before herself but this time she felt like she truly spoke what was in her heart and with her father's blessing, with his image still present as she promised to take Jamos as her husband and he promised to take her as his wife… it was everything she had never allowed herself to dream was possible.

 

“Hmm…” Marlon frowned. “Are we going to skip over the rings or…”

 

Lana spoke up. “We don't have to. Here.” She held up the sailor’s Valentine that she had asked Shara to retrieve for her earlier. 

 

Jamos and Shara's hands were still bound in the cloth so Marlon went to fetch his wife's offering. “This isn't one of the boxes I gave to you. It's one Father made for our mother.”

 

Jamos looked curiously and Shara said, “I had no idea that's how the tradition got started.”

 

“I thought it was a fitting place to keep…” Lana looked a little unsure. “Well, look inside.”

 

Marlon opened the box so that Shara and Jamos could see the contents as well. A pair of rings lay atop an old folded sheet of flimzy.

 

“You kept them.” Marlon said softly. Of course he remembered finding the note his mother had written to her sons before she took her last walk down the sea stairs. He hadn't known she had left the rings until he had passed the note over to Lana who was with him at the time. When he did, Alon and Quaita’s wedding rings, fell out of a fold in the flimzy. Lana had asked him if he wanted them and he and told her, maybe they should just throw them out to the sea but she said, “ _ What if I just hang on to them for a while. You might wish you had them someday, or Jamos might _ .” 

 

Lana had never gotten the chance to approach Jamos about them because he didn't want to talk about his mother's death and she was actually planning on saving them to give to Dalla one day but she figured this was the right moment to bring them out.

  
Jamos scooped the rings out of the box with his free hand. "We don't have to use them. We could do without for now or we can just wear them till we can get something of our own."

  
Shara remembered the story Marlon had told her. It was one thing she hadn’t brought up with Jamos waiting for him to feel ready to discuss it with her. But now she saw the eagerness in his expression. “I'd be honored to wear something of your mother's.”

  
“But you know she…” He looked away, a little embarrassed.

  
Shara sought his eye contact once again before she assured him. “She loved your father very much. She couldn't live without him.”

 

If the expression on his face didn’t tell her everything she needed to know, the fact that he chose that moment to once again tip her chin up and kiss her spoke volumes. 

 

“Again with the taking the ceremony all out of order!” Marlon pushed them apart. “Rings now. Kissing later.” 

The binding net was undraped just a bit so that Shara could slide Alon Blackwell’s ring onto Jamos’s finger and then they had a bit of confusion while they considered what the exact position Quaita Blackwell’s ring should occupy on Shara’s. Lana informed them that the wedding ring should be worn closer to the heart than the engagement ring. Once they got it all figured out Shara stared in wonder at the way the two rings looked on her finger. They looked as if they were meant to be worn together.

 

“I swear I didn’t know that we were going to use Momma and Dad’s rings. I didn’t even know that Lana had them.” Jamos professed. 

 

“Well, let’s finish this up. We’re in the home stretch now and we’ve already bored Dalla to sleep.” Marlon grinned at them. “You two know what to say.”

 

Jamos and Shara recited together, “I am his(hers) and s(he) is mine.” 

 

“Now you can kiss!” Marlon pushed them back together but the didn’t really need any coaxing. 

 

Jamos bent slightly and gathered his wife up in his arms. “Your room or mine.” He practically purred in her ear. 

 

Shara giggled. “Portia’s in my room and she’s a terrible bed hog.”

 

“Settles that.” He grinned. “I’m not sharing a bed with anyone but you tonight.” He looked from his brother to his sister-in-law and nodded his thanks to both of them. “You don’t mind if we handle the bedding on our own?” 

 

“Get out of here, Chirn head.” Marlon shoved them towards the door. “No wait.” He lifted the data pad he was holding and snapped a holostill of the newlyweds. “We’ll need a pic to go out with the formal announcement.” 

 

“Aye! Tell the whole planet I have the most beautiful wife in the galaxy!” Jamos swung her around, out the door, and down the hall to his bedroom. 

 

They had waited for, dreamed of, this night for so long. It wasn’t a surprize that they approached each other with a mixture of passionate impatience and hesitant shyness. Jamos for his part was determined to be gentle with his new wife and sensitive to her every need. "You're trembling. Are you cold. Should I go find some more blankets?"

 

She knew she could be, should be, honest with him. Still it was not easy for her. "No, that's not it. It's… it’s been such a long time. I'm… afraid I won't be able to… please you."

 

“Shara.” He pulled her close and then looked her in the eye again. "No.” He told her kindly but firmly. “Not a long time. Tonight is your first time. Tonight you are a virgin and nothing that happened before matters. I am your husband and you are my wife and becoming one with you… nothing and no one could please me more." 

 

It was exactly what she needed to hear. She had been so afraid, putting him off for so long, because she was sure he would see her as damaged goods. 

 

Instead, he worshiped the ground she walked on and tonight he would begin to show her physically what he had been trying to tell her for months. 

 

…

Some time later Marlon and Lana were woken by a cry. “Salt Gods, Jamos!”

“What was that?” Lana asked her husband, checking to make sure that her daughter and newborn son were still sleeping peacefully.

 

Malon laughed. “I think our little southern beast rider finally found religion.”

 

“I think we’re going to have to invest in soundproofed, locking doors for this place.” She settled back with a smile.

 

… 

 

“Don’t tell me you’re tired.” Shara snuggled next to her husband. More happy than she could ever remember being in her life.

 

Jamos chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Me, tired? We’re supposed to stay up all night to greet the new year dawn, right?”

She propped herself up on an elbow and gazed at him. “You know, a dalgo stud can cover a whole herd of mares in one night.”

 

“I don’t want to cover a whole herd.”  He answered, completely serious. “Up here in the north, when brylks find the right partner, they mate for life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww… of course a wedding doesn’t mean happily ever after like in the fairytales and you’ve seen from LS’s chapters a little of the drama that is still in store for our happy couple. They still have more adventures to face together and difficulties to weather. It’s a good thing that they like to kiss and make up. And that also means that i’m not done writing about them!!! As long as LS still has her story to tell you will also be able to look forward to the further adventures of gen 1!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for the reviews and and encouragement! And check out the Forum! LS just added a list of the models we’ve used as the visuals and voices of each of our characters.  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/forum/Polaris-tales-of-the-Blackwells-and-the-Onderonian-Northern-Sea/202176/


	49. Return to Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of the rebels are back to base in one piece and with marital status intact. And they also have some new guests, most of whom are welcomed but a few...not so much - LS

Lux helps King Dendup onto a sofa when they arrive back at base and the rebels buzz with excitement. It’s not every day the king of the entire planet sits on your sofa, after all. As soon as Dendup is settled, Lux takes the seat next to him. 

 

Dalla all but collapses onto another couch with Thias in one arm and Kason in the other. 

 

“Thank gods,” she murmurs, hugging Kason first and then Thias. “Thank gods, thank  _ gods.”  _

 

“I’m so sorry,” Thias blubbers. “I thought they were going to kill you, I didn’t know he --.” 

 

“Rash pulled it out of my head somehow,” Kason says. “I heard you were here from your friend, and then he sat me down to breakfast and asked me all these questions that I didn’t answer. I tried to warn you. I told him to wear a cloak. It was supposed to be a clue that he knew you were coming.” 

 

“You did everything you could.” She rubs his back. “Thank you for trying to warn me. Kase, are you hurt at all?” Kason shakes his head. “Thias?” 

 

“No,” Thias says. “I should be though. I’d deserve it.” 

 

“What you did today was  _ incredibly _ stupid,” Does ‘incredibly’ even cover it? “But it does not warrant getting shot or losing your head. Father would kill me if either one happened.” 

 

Thias sniffs. “Father’s really gonna kill me, isn’t he?” 

 

“You’re chum, Thias.” He smiles for a second before sobering up again so she takes that as a good sign. “I’m just glad we have Kase back.” 

 

“And that the king’s alive.” Kason looks at him across the room as if he’s a favorite grandfather. “He’s a good roommate.”

 

“I dearly hope we won’t have to share for much longer.” Dendup smiles at the three of them. “So these are the cousins I’ve heard so much about.” 

 

“Your Highness,” Dalla rises, kicking herself for sitting down in the first place in the presence of a king. 

 

Dendup shakes his head. “Sit down. You’ve had a long day.” 

 

“He’s really cool,” Kason raves while Dalla lowers herself back into her seat. “He plays dejarik, and he took me into the greenhouse and taught me about carnivorous plants! I bet he can teach you too.” 

 

“That’s great. But I’m sure the king is tired too, and he needs to talk to Steela.”

 

Just then the door opens and everyone’s hands go to their blasters. They relax and a few even applaud when they see who it is: General Tandin flanked by none other than Ahsoka, who most definitely did get involved. 

 

Dendup looks to Tandin. “Why now?” 

 

“It was time for a new approach, my lord.” 

 

“Do I have your loyalty?” 

 

Tandin nods. “And that of the army.” 

 

“You also have ours,” Steela says. “With your rule, our numbers will grow.” 

 

“Thanks, child.” Dendup lays a hand on Lux’s shoulder. “Your mother would be proud.”

 

“Thank you, my lord.” Lux glows from the praise.

 

“We must first win the will of the people. That is the only way,” he stands. “The Separatists will assemble their forces. Count Dooku will want me dead more than ever.”

“Then we’ll have to teach them another lesson,” Saw beams and claps Steela on the back. “Together!” 

 

Everyone cheers and the rebels welcome their new allies the militiamen: finding them seats, pouring drinks, and introducing themselves. Tandin shakes Dendup’s hand and then makes his way to the Blackwells. 

 

“Young lady, this is an interesting way of staying in the north.” 

Dalla winces. “It was no longer safe after we had a … situation at the Hold.” 

 

“So I heard,” his face darkens. “All that aside, I’m glad all three of you are safe.” 

 

“All thanks to you. This is the second time you’ve saved my skin, and I don’t know how to repay you.”

 

“There’s no need. I was simply doing my duty.” 

 

“You went far beyond your duty. Rash could have killed you and he almost did if Ahsoka hadn’t stepped in. Of course that deserves some kind of --.” 

 

“Not that duty.” He gently cuts her off and sits on the edge of the couch. “My duty to my family,” he says in a lower voice.  

 

“Family?” Thias repeats.

 

“You wouldn’t know,” Tandin explains. “Your aunt may have mentioned I was interested in Beast Rider culture and came to the Summer Fete whenever I could, but one of my main reasons for doing so was to see her and her father. We’re distant cousins, and after my parents died of the dalgos flu they were the only family I had left.” 

 

“Is that why you helped us?” Kason asks. “Because you’re related to my mom?” 

 

“It’s one reason. I didn’t want you boys to be taken hostage or for Dendup to die either, and I certainly don’t approve of forced marriage. Yes, I helped you all because you’re my kin. But I also helped you because if I didn’t, I don’t think I could have slept at night.” 

 

“You’re a remarkable man, general.” If praise is the only thing he’ll accept from her, then Dalla is going to give him a life’s supply.  

 

“That he is,” Dendup breaks in. “He, and your cousin, and your husband are all upstanding men, Lady Blackwell.”

 

Dalla raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me, my husband?” 

 

Saw suddenly looks very guilty. “Erm, sire? General? What I said in the palace wasn’t all true.” 

 

Steela glares at him. “Saw, what did you do?” 

 

“I may or may not have told Rash that Dalla and I were married.”

 

The girls’ jaws drop. “Saw, he almost took your head for that!” Steela cries.

 

“I was just trying to protect you all,” he protests and then looks sheepishly at Dendup and Tandin. “What I said isn't true. We’re not married. We’re not even courting. Dalla and I are just friends.”

 

Dendup laughs. “You fooled me, young man!”

 

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Saw rubs the back of his neck. “General? Sorry for growling at you at the palace, but under the circumstances…”

 

“And I’m sorry for being a pain,” Kason butts in. “All the stuff I said and did.”

 

“I understand,” Tandin says. “I can’t say I liked it, but I understand. There was no way you could have known I was there to help.” 

 

“Someone get him a sainthood,” Dalla implores. 

 

Some of the militiamen agree, some snort, and Tandin sighs. “Are you alright, Dalla? That stun pulse was set to high power, and what happened after wasn’t a picnic.”

 

“I could be a whole lot worse.” Dalla’s brows knit in confusion. “Why is everyone staring at me?” 

 

Lux, Saw, and Steela look at each other like  _ do we tell her?  _

 

“It’s not a big deal,” Steela says. “It’s just kind of eye-catching.” 

 

“Your face was pressed into Rash’s doublet so hard, it left lines. That’s all. They’ll fade away in a few minutes,” Lux explains.  

 

Dalla touches her cheek and yes, she can feel the little dints in her skin. She rubs her cheeks to make them less noticeable. It's bad enough Rash caught her; she hates that he left even a temporary mark. “Thanks for telling me.” 

 

“I bet Rash has an even worse mark.” Kason zeroes in on Lux. “You’re Lux Bonteri, right? It was so cool how you hit him right in his stupid head!” 

 

Lux rubs the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t say it was ‘cool,’ but I guess I did.”

 

Steela takes a seat and Dendup angles himself toward her. “I never caught your name, young lady.”

 

Steela startles. “Oh! I'm Steela Gerrera, sire. I'm Saw’s sister.”

 

_ “Lady  _ Steela Gerrera,” Lux corrects. “She never mentions the Lady part.” 

 

“She’s amazing, sire,” Ahsoka says. “I'm sure you saw that today.”

 

“And so I did.” Dendup reaches across Lux and places his hand on Steela’s arm. “You are a true daughter of Onderon,” he says. “And I'm honored to be here with you.”

 

Steela blinks with shock. “T-thank you, your Majesty!”

 

“And a Lady too. I can't say I've heard of House Gerrera.”

 

“We’re Beast Riders,” she begins. “And we’re close to Bremon Kira.”

 

“Close?” Werda Flint, their tunnel guide, queries. “Of course you’re close. You have clan ties. Way back in the Beast Wars, Oron Kira’s little sister Oona married Timo Gerrera, one of the men who helped him take Princess Galia from the palace.”

 

“How do you know all this stuff?” Saw asks.

 

Werda shrugs. “I'm a Flint.”

 

“House Flint is so big they have to keep on top of genealogy just to make sure they don't marry their cousins,” Thias explains. “Grandmother Flint is like a wizard with it.”

 

“I found that bit out from a book she sent me,” Werda says proudly. “She’s teaching me how to do the same thing.”

 

Dalla can't believe there’s a basis to her “Lady Gerrera” stunt. And it looks like Steela can't believe it either. 

 

“Well I guess that settles all the business in this room,” Lux says brightly. 

 

Tandin’s face darkens. “Not all of it.” 

 

He's wearing the same expression as he did during the execution. Even if he is her kin, Dalla knows she doesn't want to be on the wrong end of that. “General?”

 

“It's not you, Dalla. It's not any of you.” He stands up and and walks over to a couple of his men standing along the wall. 

 

“I didn't think you two had made it back in time to join the rest of us.”

 

“We returned only a few hours ago, General.” The first agent says and strokes his thin beard. It looks like it's grown out of his being unable to shave more than from a personal choice. “Hadn't even been debriefed yet.”

 

“I’d call that incredible luck. Where was your assignment?” 

 

“We were ordered to maintain complete secrecy, sir.” 

 

“And our collective defection voids those orders. Where. Were. You?” He picks out the other militiaman. “Jarvis?” 

 

“The Northern Seas, sir,” Jarvis admits. 

 

Everyone else falls silent and starts to pay attention. 

 

Tandin crosses his arms. “I don’t suppose you were fishing for your assignment?” 

 

“No, sir.” Beard hangs his head. 

 

“You two were sent to kidnap Lady Blackwell, weren’t you?” 

 

Realization breaks over Dalla like a cold wave and it takes all she has to restrain herself. Thias grabs the couch cushions and counts to ten through clenched teeth. But they know to let Tandin handle this. 

 

“We didn’t get near her,” Beard says and gestures to Dalla. “Obviously. We only were conducting surveillance on Blackhold; we never had contact with any of the family members. We weren’t close enough to cause any harm.” 

 

“You didn't harm anyone while you were in the north?” Tandin boxes them into the corner. “Really? Not a soul?” 

 

“Aside from a few mistakes, no.”

 

Tandin loses it. 

 

“Mistakes?!” he bellows.  _ “You killed a teenage girl in cold blood!”  _

 

Thias’ face crumbles in silent agony and Dalla fills to the brim with rage. Only the barest sense of reason keeps her from ripping Beard and Jarvis apart limb from limb. 

 

Dendup stands up very, very slowly. “They did what?” 

 

“Tell him,” Tandin orders. “Tell your king what you did!” 

 

“It was a mistake!” Jarvis bleats. “We were just following orders!” 

 

Dendup scans the room and selects Dalla as the one person who knows what went on and can speak normally instead of screaming. “Lady Blackwell, what is this?” 

 

“My friend,” she gulps. “Miranda Harkon. Right before I left…” she feels a sob threatening to choke her. “They killed her,” she gasps. “Rash sent royal agents after me, they took her instead by accident and when they realized what happened they killed her!” 

 

Dendup glares at Beard and Jarvis. “Is this true?” 

 

“It’s not like she says,” Beard protests. “This girl looked just like the target. And she didn't say otherwise until we were already on the water and it was too late to turn back.” 

 

“So you shot her,” Tandin spits. “You murdered that innocent, sixteen-year-old girl to hide your incompetence.” 

 

“We couldn’t leave any witnesses or we’d risk compromising the mission. After you didn’t bring the girl back Rash would be furious if we failed too.” 

 

“Do you know what he said when I returned without Dalla?” Tandin demands. “He said he was disappointed, but he was glad no one was hurt.” 

 

“He was going to kill us. He said he’d deal with us when he learned of our mistake and we all know what that means.” Jarvis tries to back up but the wall thwarts him. “We tried to do right. We did it quick; she didn’t feel anything.” 

 

Dalla can’t keep quiet any longer. “You shot her in the head and threw her into the water like she was  _ nothing!”  _

 

“If I could go back and change it, I would,” Beard swears. “But there was no other way.”

 

“You could have checked before you took her. You could have asked her, or searched my name on the HoloNet! Did you ever think of that?”

 

Steela places a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

 

Tandin jumps back into the fray. “Your Highness, they’ve confessed to the crime. I ask your permission to execute these two on the charge of murder.”

 

“Please, sire! Mercy!” Beard falls to his knees groveling. “That’s why we left Rash, that we would serve the king who knows mercy!” 

 

“You left to save your own skins,” Tandin snaps. “There was no honor in it; you joined us to evade justice. Well justice has a way of always exacting itself, whether it’s by Rash’s hands or mine.”

 

Dendup glares at the two agents long and hard. 

 

“What you have done is an unspeakable crime and justice must be served,” he says. “However, the crime took place in northern jurisdiction. They must be tried by a northern court. Until Lord Blackwell arrives to deliver a formal charge, they will be detained in order to be transferred to Harkon Hall for trial.” 

 

The agents share a terrified gaze as the implications of that set in. “No! My lord, please not Harkon Hall!” 

 

“Get these two out of my sight before I kill them myself,” Tandin seethes.  

 

Four militiamen converge on the killers and drag them away, still pleading to Dendup and Tandin and even the Blackwells. 

 

“Please!” Beard cries. “We’re sorry!  _ We’re sorry!”  _

 

“Sorry?” Thias sobs so quietly almost none of them can hear. “Miranda is dead! I would’ve...I might have married her.” And then he crumbles and Kason hugs him. 

 

Steela squeezes Dalla’s shoulder. “Can I have a word?” 

 

“Aye.” Dalla shakes her head to force her sobs down and walks with Steela into the briefing room. Steela locks the door behind them. “What is it?” 

 

Steela runs a hand through her hair. “We’re gonna take a minute and freak out.” 

 

“Freak out?” Dalla repeats. She’s spent the better part of today desperately trying not to freak out. 

 

“Saw got captured last night, your brother had to be locked in the storeroom, we walked into a trap at the palace.” Steela starts ticking them off on her fingers. “The king was almost executed, Saw and Lux and I were almost executed, you almost married a megalomaniac, and we’ve both lost friends today. I’m about to lose it, and I know you’re about to lose it, and we each need a friend and some time for ourselves right now.” She talks faster and faster as she goes on, then plops into one of the seats. 

 

Dalla sits next to her and takes her hand.

 

“I was so scared,” she gasps. “I didn’t realize it on stage because I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t speak, and then he  _ had  _ me...” She gives in to her freakout but clamps her free hand over her mouth to stopper in the sound. “And then when I could. When I could fight. It was like he couldn't feel pain. I was trapped and he had ahold of me, and I was so scared, Steela!”

 

“I was too,” Steela squeezes Dalla’s hand like a lifeline. “When I saw you didn’t get away and then the droids took us, I was out of plans. And then he put us in line for the guillotine and I couldn’t do anything! I didn’t know what to do and I was terrified. I wanted to run away screaming.” She squeezes her hand again and seems to notice something. 

 

“Uh...nice rock, by the way.”

 

“Nice...what?” Dalla follows Steela’s gaze to her hand and almost jumps out of her skin. On her left ring finger is an enormous ruby ring, the stone almost eclipsing her finger. How in salt gods’ names she didn’t realize she was wearing it she has no idea. But still there’s only one way it got on…

 

Dalla yanks it off as fast as she can and stares at it. When did Rash put this on her hand and how didn’t she notice? If she had she’d have torn it off just like the necklace. 

 

Before she can think about it any longer Steela plucks the ring from her hand, examines it for a split second and then nonchalantly tosses it over her shoulder into some random corner of the briefing room. 

 

“As Dono would say, there are some things that just shouldn’t be worn.” She grabs Dalla’s hand again.

 

Dalla takes a deep breath. “Do you want a pillow to scream into now? Cause I think I do.”

 

“Maybe later. But right now I need something to hold and do you mind if I use you?”

 

Dalla nods and Steela hugs her. It's not the possessive and restrictive hold Rash put her in, but a tight friendly embrace. She wraps her arms around Steela as well and pats her back. “There's no way you could have foreseen that. No way.”

 

“I'm the leader. It's my job to foresee everything.” 

 

“But that's not possible.” Dalla urges. “I never thought Rash would try for a marriage alliance. I never thought he would send people to take me. I never thought he would kill --.” She can't swallow her sobs anymore. “Miranda didn't deserve that! She was kind, and brave, and the best person in the galaxy. She didn't deserve to be gunned down and thrown away like garbage. I’d give anything for them to have taken someone else. I’d give anything for them to have taken  _ me.” _

 

“If you say that again I'm going to slap you,” Steela informs her. “Even if we’re having a freakout session.”

 

Dalla sniffs. “Then quit saying you should have seen it coming.”

 

“Okay, that's fair.” She rubs Dalla’s back. “I’m so glad you’re okay. After what happened with Dono --.”

 

“Dono was your Miranda, wasn't she?”

 

Steela wipes her eyes. “She wasn’t my best friend, but she was  _ a _ friend and a loyal soldier. And after she died...we’re the only ones left. We don’t have any more friends to lean on. We’re it except for Ahsoka, and she’s not staying when this is over.” 

 

“What can we do? Avenge them, I guess. Honor them.” She pulls back. “Are you done freaking out?” 

 

“Yeah.” Steela composes herself. “We should go back in. There’s work to be done and our brothers are going to start looking for us soon.” 

 

“We don’t want that to happen,” Dalla smiles thinly and stands up from the couch. 

 

“After what happened today? No, we do not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justice is beginning to be served, but the rebels still have a long way to go to right wrongs. The next chapter in Gen 2 brings in some characters from The Ashla Awareness, so if you ever needed an excuse to go read that story -- this is it!


	50. Putting Grief on Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin with a flashback that takes place during the sixteenth chapter of my story the Ashla Awareness in which Melaana Rash is devising a way to break her engagement to one Lieutenant Dane Bonteri. (which you would know if you had done your homework like Ms. LS told you to) The elder Rash sibling looks back fondly on the era when his sister took the spotlight so that he might spend some time alone with the girl he loved. Especially since the news of the wedding of the younger Blackwell brother has just reached Iziz. ~ DK

_ He took her hand and led her up the back stairs. She was nervous, worried someone would catch them. “They're all busy with the party,” he assured her. _

 

_ “But what if you're missed? What if they come looking?” _

 

_ “They won't. Mel's the star. And now that she knows about us, she’ll cover for us. I know she will.” _

 

_ She nodded but didn't seem quite at ease as she looked around his large bed chamber. It was the first time he'd ever brought her here even in the ten months they had been lovers. The very idea of having her here, in his bed, excited him beyond reason.  _

 

_ “It will be our bed soon enough. Our marriage bed I mean.” _

 

_ “As soon as I'm carrying your baby?” She whispered. _

 

_ He left off kissing her for a moment to look her in the eye. She so badly wanted a child. Mother so badly wanted an heir. For his part, Sanjay much preferred the idea of making the baby to actually having one. “Tonight we can pretend that we’re husband and wife.” _

 

_ She smiled a little at that. Gods she was beautiful, small and delicate but toned and strong from her riding and working with her father. How would pregnancy change her, he wondered. If he had his way he would keep her just like this. He wanted to remember her exactly the way she looked tonight.  _

 

_ And he could! “Shara,” he whispered against her hair. _

 

_ “Yes, Sanjay?” She breathed. _

 

_ He didn't really want to stop what they were doing right now but still… “Will you allow me to do something? Will you allow me to sketch you? I wouldn't show it to anyone. It would just be for me to remember…” _

 

_ She studied him curiously for a moment and then gave him that same shy smile. “My mother posed for an artist once.” _

 

_ “The picture at your father's house?” _

 

_ She nodded. “But before that as well. It wasn't the first time that artist had come to the fete. I think that's why father was so upset that he wanted to paint her again, with me.” _

 

_ “So, you won't? You think it would upset your father?” He frowned. _

 

_ “I think it would upset him that I'm here with you now.” She looked away from him guiltily but then screwed up her courage and smiled. “If you promise not to show it to anyone else…” _

 

_ He had shown her some of his drawings of buildings, and animals and of Mel. He had actually sketched Shara herself a few times before, but nothing like this, here, naked, in his bed. “I promise. It will only be for me.” _

 

_ …   _

  
  


“Sani...Sanjay.” 

 

The voice snapped him out of his reverie and Sanjay looked up from his sketches to the man in the bed next to his chair. “Yes, Father?” 

 

The old man gestured feebly to the window. “Close the drapes for me, Sanjay. The sun’s in my eyes.” 

 

“Of course.” Sanjay set the drawings on the end table and got up to close the curtains. “Is that better?”

 

“It is,” Ommin Rash nodded his thanks to his son. “Sanjay, you look so morose. What is it?”

 

“It's nothing, Father.” Sanjay stared at the drapes.

 

Ommin wasn't convinced. He looked to the end table and the sketches Sanjay had neatly placed on it. 

 

“It's her, isn't it?”

 

Sanjay just stared at the curtains some more.

 

How had this happened? How could Shara go and marry someone else while he was back in Iziz waiting for her? This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to realize what an awful place the Northern Sea was and what cold and hard people it bred, and come back where she belonged: to the warm and alive city of Iziz, in the arms of her warm and alive husband. 

 

Except he’d just been ousted from that title in the worst way possible: Shara had wed Jamos Blackwell in a private ceremony at Blackhold, and Sanjay found out from the news holos.  

 

He’d barely been able to read the missives through his grief but he’d caught a few details from the images. It was a tiny ceremony with only the family invited, no fancy clothes or important guests or lavish gifts. 

 

What kind of a wedding was that? His and Shara’s wedding had been spur-of-the-moment, yes, but he’d at least taken the time to weave flowers into her hair. And as soon as they got to the Rash estate he’d showered her in everything he could: her necklace, her wedding ring, and all sorts of gifts. Didn’t look like Jamos Blackwell had done any of that. In the holos Shara wore a small ring set with a pearl. A pearl! Couldn’t Jamos be bothered to scrape together some credits and buy her a proper ring with a nice, big stone? 

 

“Sanjay,” his father said gently. “She’s happy. That’s the most important thing, that she’s happy.” 

 

“I love her,” Sanjay whimpered. “No one else...no one could love her the way I do.” 

 

“I know she’s important to you,” Ommin sighed sadly. He wished his son didn’t have to go through this. “But love is wanting what’s best for the other person, what makes them happy. Sanjay, she glows in those holos. I’ve never seen Shara like that before.” 

 

“She was with me!” 

 

Ommin waited before responding. “She was, once. But at the end, not anymore. Someday in the future, whether it’s tomorrow or this summer or ten years from now, you’ll find someone who makes you just as happy as Shara is in that holo.”   

 

“As happy as you and Mother? She has as much said that she didn't love you till you gave her me and Melaana. And I couldn't even do that. I couldn't give Shara what she wanted most..." His voice broke in a sob and out of the corner of his eye Sanjay saw his father shrink from the outburst and he looked away from the drapes. “I’m sorry Father. I didn’t mean to yell.” 

 

“I know you didn’t. And my relationship with your mother...it wasn’t as if we hated each other. We respected each other and we worked together to bring about our goals. And then when we had you,” he smiled. “Sanjay, I didn’t know what love was until I saw you and your sister for the first time. And then I loved your mother because she had given me something so incredible.” Ommin looked around for a different conversation topic and settled on the sketchbook. “Do you have any drawings I can see?” 

 

“Yes.” Sanjay flipped through the sketchbook past all the images of Shara to a tamer one. “Here, it’s the view from my window. There’s our speeder garage, and the garden, and …” 

 

“Sanjay, this is amazing.” 

 

“Thank you Father --.” 

 

“No really, this is amazing. You have real talent.” He turned the flimsi pages to a few more of Sanjay’s sketches. “The detail, the dimensions -- where did you learn how to do this?” 

 

“I practiced,” he said awkwardly. “And I look at the artwork Mother buys, or on the HoloNet.”

 

His father set down the sketchbook and took Sanjay’s hand in his own. 

 

“Get a teacher,” he commanded. 

 

“A teacher?” 

 

“This makes you happy. I can tell just from looking at you when you talk about it,” he smiled. “I supported your sister’s flying, and I don’t regret it for a moment because it made her happy. I want you to have that same joy. I don't know where you can find one but … find a teacher. Nurture your skill, no matter what.”

 

… 

 

Sanjay couldn’t help but think that his father wouldn’t have cared for the lavish funeral. A senator, a barron, a king, had all attended and no less than fifty speeders had wound through the streets of Iziz on their way to the temple of Unifras. Well, he might have liked that part. Ommin Rash always did have a weakness for his collection of the rare and antique models. All the pomp and circumstance, however, the huge crowd of strangers who were there more to gawk at the lord’s casket than to actually mourn the man, it was all a show, directed by the grieving widow. 

 

The priest spoke at great length without really saying anything and then Sanjay’s father was entombed in the crypt beneath the temple along with other nobles and kings. At least the place was easy to find. Perhaps Sanjay would come back here when the masses had all gone away and make his own last lonely walk as Shara had done to say goodbye to her father. That somehow seemed more fitting for man who only ever wanted to live a quiet life. 

 

Mother was stoic through it all, accepting the condolences graciously. Now that the two of them had returned home, she was actually crying, lying on her sofa, watching a holo program, crying. She was drinking out of a tumbler with a half full decanter on the table next to her and she motioned to the holo when she noticed her son enter the room.

 

“He called your sister a princess.” Sanda had watched this program, and in particular, this episode, a hundred times. Notluiski Papanoida had moved on to bigger and better things after he did his time on the daily holosoaps. He’d done a stint on Onderon posing as a flight instructor, Melaana Rash’s flight instructor to be exact, in preparation for one of his most famous full length features. “He wanted to leave his wife to marry her. She would have been a Baroness.” She gestured broadly with the tumbler and some of the amber liquid sloshed from the container. She took a sip and when she realized how low the level of the liquid had fallen, looked up blearily at her son. “Sanjay, be a dear and give Mother a refill.” 

 

“Yes, Mother.” He set down the sketchbook he’d been clutching and obeyed even though he didn’t want to. He’d seen his mother heavy in her cups plenty of times before but then, after the day they’d had though, he supposed she was probably entitled to a measure of liquid relief. 

 

“You know that… whatever his name was… Kira… the uncle, once said he saw a crown in the future of our family.” Sanda took a large swallow from her refilled vessel and closed her eyes savoring it. 

 

_ He also cursed House Rash never to have an heir _ , Sanjay thought. 

 

Opening her eyes, Sanda patted his hand. “You're my only hope for that now, my child.” 

 

“I’ll do my best, Mother.” 

 

“You’ll have to do better than that. Your father has left you as the lord of this family.” She seemed much more lucid now. “You must provide an heir and maybe now that that ridiculous girl has gone and remarried you can finally give up your foolish infatuation and get on with…”

 

“I know what I have to do!” Sanjay bent to pick up his sketchbook so that he could retreat to his own rooms. 

 

“What is that?” His mother asked before he could make his escape. 

 

“It’s just…”

 

“Show it to me.” She reached out and gestured imperiously for him to comply. 

 

He handed it to her and she flipped distastefully past a few, thankfully clothed, likenesses of Shara. The landscapes also received a dismissive glance. 

 

“Father said I should nurture my talent, find a teacher…”

 

“Like he supported your sister’s dangerous hobbies. Just look what happened to her.” Sanda continued to rifle through the drawings. “No, Sanjay. This will only be a distraction…” 

 

Then she came to a sketch that stopped her in her tracks. “This is… Melaana.”

 

Sanjay shrugged. “Yes. I was rather proud of the way that one turned out.” 

 

“This should be framed.” Sanda tilted her head, gazing at the facsimile of her daughter. Tears blurred her vision but she blinked them away. 

 

“Father believed I could only improve with instruction.” He silently prayed that she would now allow him to continue with the pursuit. 

 

She nodded and handed the book back to him. “Perhaps a talent such as this should be nurtured. It will be another accomplishment that we can add to the list of your attractive qualities for the procurement of your future bride.” 

 

Sanjay cradled the sketchbook and ground his teeth together. “Yes, Mother.”

 

She waved dismissively at him. “Very well. Find yourself a teacher.” 

 

He nodded and started to leave but she stopped him once more.

 

“Sanjay, could you please have that image of your sister framed for me…”

 

“Yes, Mother.” He couldn’t help taking pride in her judgement of his work. 

 

“And Sanjay, promise me that you will refrain from reproducing any more images of your ex-wife.” She raised an eyebrow knowing that she was extracting an unwilling vow. “It’s for your own good. You know it would only be a distraction.”

 

Again he clenched his teeth but he answered nonetheless, “Yes, Mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events Sanda Rash mentions concerning her daughter and a young Baron Papanoida can be found in my story Some Say I’ve Got Devil, chapters 8&9\. Thank you so much for reading this story. Please drop us a comment.


	51. Gathering Forces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We had one flashback to The Ashla Awareness last chapter, and now Gen 2 brings in one of its stars. Bremon Kira is the property of DuchessKenobi, and I’d like to send her a big thank you for allowing me to bring him into the fray. -LS

“I’d like to say this is a very unorthodox funeral,” King Dendup comments while they gather in the refresher. 

 

“The ‘fresher is the only room with an exhaust vent,” Lux explains.

 

“And why do we need an exhaust vent for a funeral?” one of the militiamen asks. 

 

“For this.” Steela points to a mass of rumpled fabric sitting at the bottom of the shower. It’s the place they decided had the minimal risk of causing fire. “We’re burning it in memory of Dono and need the exhaust vent to get rid of the smoke.” 

 

“A shirt?” 

 

“Not just any shirt. This is the fruit shirt, which according to Dono was the worst shirt to ever grace the galaxy. As soon as she saw it she was bent on making sure no one wore it. I think she’d have some peace knowing she left the universe with one less piece of horrible fashion.” 

 

Saw pours an accelerant over the shirt and hands a book of matches to Werda and Hero. “As her friends, would you like to do the honors?”

 

Hero and Werda nod to each other and light their matches. Lux starts the exhaust vent. 

 

“Burn,” Hero whispers and drops her match.  _ “Burn,  _ you ugly piece of --.” 

 

“Isn't that Momma’s shirt?” Kason whispers.

 

Dalla nods. “Aye, but you didn’t hear that.”

 

Hero’s and Werda’s matches hit the fabric and flames engulf the fruit shirt. It burns like flimsi, the fruit embroidery melting in with the rest of it.

 

When the entire thing is reduced to a smoldering pile of ash, they all sense a presence relax away. As if it's saying  _ thank you for averting the fashion disaster.  _

 

Werda smiles wryly. “Yeah Dono, the galaxy's a more fashionable place thanks to you.”

 

Saw turns on the shower to extinguish the embers. “Should we say some words?” 

 

“Dono wouldn’t have liked that,” Hero says. “Getting rid of bad fashion is perfect for her.” 

 

Still, they bow their heads for a moment of silence. It just doesn’t seem like a funeral without some reflection for the woman who loved fashion and claimed not to know nautical directions and hated fruit shirts and destroyer droids with a burning passion.  

 

Steela breaks it. 

 

“Rest in peace, Dono,” she says. “The rest of us have to move out.” 

 

…

 

They enter the tunnels through the same access point they exited while they were escaping the execution. Werda takes the lead, followed by Steela, Lux, Saw, Ahsoka, and the king. 

 

“Ahsoka?” Lux asks a while later. “Are you alright? You’re acting strangely.” 

 

“I’m fine,” she says. “Remember the dark presence I told my master about around the campfire when we were in the jungle? It’s much stronger here, like I’m getting closer.” 

 

“Small wonder. These catacombs connect to the tomb of Freedon Nadd,” Steela tells her. “It’s hidden deep under the royal palace and no one’s tried to touch it for a long time, but it’s still there. Most native Onderonians are used to it. How badly is it bothering you?” 

 

“It’s not calling out to or harassing me,” Ahsoka clarifies. “It’s just there, like a shadow.” 

 

“You know, these tunnels are pretty extensive,” Saw muses. “If we wanted, they would make an excellent base…” 

 

“I wouldn’t recommend that, Saw. The darkness down here…” Ahsoka trails off and looks over her shoulder as if she expects Naddist ghosts to be on their heels. Dalla pulls Thias and Kason close on sheer instinct. Northerners and black magic don’t mix, and she’ll put her credits on Ahsoka’s expertise.

 

“Nobody should ever use tunnels for anything,” Lux agrees. “Except escape routes.” 

 

“We don’t have much farther until we get to the access point by the old Kira place,” Werda calls back. “Steela and Saw can get you two wherever you’re going from there.” 

 

“And where are we going?” Thias asks.

 

“The Highlands,” Steela says. “It offers the most strategic advantages if we have the high ground and we can easily get beasts and supplies there. And the river winds past them before it hits Iziz, so we can rendezvous with the navy. Dalla, progress?” 

 

“I haven’t placed a comm to my father directly,” she says. “I didn’t want to risk giving up our location since Rash has to be monitoring transmissions. But if Father saw the execution on the HoloNet, then he’s leaving now if he hasn’t already left. As soon as we arrive I’ll have to figure something out to tell him where to go.” 

 

Hutch speaks up. “I can bounce a holomessage around the planet ten times if I have a good enough connection. If you come up with a code for the transmission itself, I can get it to him. 

 

“I’m probably going to take you up on that, Hutch.” For all his indiscretion when he found her and Saw in the kitchen, Hutch is actually a pretty good guy. 

 

“And what are we going to do with our friends?” Dendup glares at Beard and Jarvis near the back of the line, detained by their militia escort. 

 

“There are some abandoned barns we can put them in,” Saw says. “Maybe even some kennels.” 

 

_ What I’d like to do to them involves Harkon Hall’s kennels, _ Dalla thinks.  _ If Saw wants to give them a preview he can go right ahead.  _

 

“Aside from that there are caves and other places to set up base and keep you safe, Your Highness.” Steela changes the subject. “I’m thinking the Nest is our best bet.”

 

Tandin nods; clearly he knows what they’re talking about. “Good call. High ground, many caves, close proximity to the river. We shouldn’t have any trouble bouncing a signal from there.” 

 

“Dalla, do you want me to be with you for that?” Steela asks. 

 

“No thank you. It’s just a text message and he’s my father; he’s much more agreeable than the Bralykburns. But I think I’m going to need your help for something else.”

 

Steela follows her gaze to the boys hanging back with Tandin. 

 

“I have an idea,” she says. 

 

…

 

_ Marlon and Jamos Blackwell, your order for chirn bait is available for pickup at the following coordinates:  _

 

Dalla hands the datapad with the message and coordinates back to Hutch. “I entered his personal comm frequency and my uncle’s. That should cover everything. Can you make it look like it’s from a fish bait company?”

 

“Do fish breathe water?” Hutch scoffs and starts preparing the transmission. “I can make it look like it’s from Chancellor Palpatine.”

 

“Thanks for doing this, Hutch.”

 

“If it means you and Saw stop giving me the stink eye over Kitchengate, I’ll do it any day.” He taps the datapad. “I sent it and if Rash sees it, it’ll look like a northern frequency.” 

 

“I’ll tell Saw to quit glaring at you.” 

 

“Are you sure you two aren’t married?” Hutch smirks.

 

“Are you sure you and Hero aren’t?” She volleys back. 

 

“Anyone ever told you you’re relentless, Dalla?” 

 

“Of course I am. At least, when I have to deal with Saw and you.” 

 

“Smart. I’ll tell you if I get any response from your dad,” he goes back to the datapad with lasered focus. “I don’t want the Lord of the North after me for impersonating his kid.” 

 

“He can get intense,” she nods and heads for the mouth of the cave Steela’s designated their new base. “Thanks, Hutch!” 

 

Steela meets her just inside the mouth. “I have the dalgos hitched. Are you ready to go?” 

 

“Just have to grab our passengers.” She whistles. “Hey, guys!” 

 

Thias and Kason’s heads snap in her direction from their place helping King Dendup settle in. 

 

“Get in the cart. We’re leaving.” 

 

Getting in the cart turns out to be far more complicated than one would think. The dalgos, which Steela assures Dalla half a hundred times is one of the rebels’ gentlest, has no intention of letting her or Thias anywhere near it. 

 

Steela the beast whisperer attempts to bribe it with sucrose lumps but whenever Dalla or Thias gets close enough to even touch it the dalgos acts like it wants to tear their faces off. 

 

“Luna, this isn’t you!” Steela begs, petting the dalgos’ snout. “Even if you’re with foal, Uncle Brem says you’re the calmest mount he’s seen in years.”

 

“If this is a calm one, I don’t want to see a normal one,” Dalla says. 

 

“This isn’t like her at all.” Steela reaches for another handful of sucrose lumps. “I think she just doesn’t like northerners, like during the Beast Wars. They really didn’t like your ancestors.” 

 

“The final straw that prompted Aloysius Blackwell to leave was when a beast threw his wife from its back so aye, I’d say they have something on northerners.” 

 

“So we’re walking?” Thias suggests. He doesn’t want to be near the dalgos any more than Luna wants to be near him. 

 

“No, I have to take her back to Uncle Brem.” Steela thinks a moment. “If you guys get in the back of the cart instead of sitting up front with me...maybe that would work.” 

 

“If it keeps us away from teeth, I’m all for it,” Dalla and Thias climb into the back of the cart while Steela distracts Luna with sucrose. “Kase, get in!” 

 

Kason pats the beast’s flank. “She’s not  _ evil,  _ guys,” he rolls his eyes and climbs into the cart. 

 

“It must sense you’re half Beast Rider,” Dalla grumbles and takes Steela’s hand to pull herself into the cart’s seat from behind. She settles in silently, praying Luna won’t notice. 

 

Luna notices and Steela makes a nickering sound. “It’s okay, girl. They’re friends. Now let’s go to Brem’s.” 

 

Luna clearly isn’t pleased, but Steela’s sucrose bribe works and she grudgingly plods off down one of the beast trails. 

 

“Why are we bothering Lord Kira?” Thias asks. “Why can’t we just stay with King Dendup? It’s safe there, with the bodyguards.” 

 

Dalla decides to be brutally honest. “Thias, with your track record there’s no way I’m leaving you within a klik of a battlefield.” 

 

“And the old Kira place is much safer,” Steela adds. “It’s away from the fighting, and Uncle Brem will be there to take care of you. He’ll keep you safe and updated on the situation, and he’s very kind. He’d be more than happy to teach you about the beasts or the Beast Wars.” 

 

“Won’t Dad and Uncle Marlon be worried about us?” Kason asks. 

 

“They’ll worry a lot less if you’re away from the fighting.” Dalla eyes Luna warily as the dalgos snorts at the sound of her voice. “Thanks for asking your uncle if he could take them,” she whispers. 

 

“Not a problem. I already had to make a run to the old Kira place, might as well take you guys with me. It’s nicer to travel with company anyway.” 

 

“Even company your dalgos hates?” 

 

“Makes it interesting!” 

 

Luna grunts her disagreement. 

 

The trail winds out of the mountains and into the shaded jungle, still closely following the river. Eventually the trees clear to reveal a sprawling ranch-style house. It would be beautiful if someone was taking care of it, but the house itself seems to be neglected. The gardens surrounding it are overgrown and wild, with vines crawling up the house’s walls. In sharp contrast the barn and pastures are well-maintained, and there an older man stands next to an equally ancient ruping, staring at the two girls in the cart’s seat. 

 

Steela pulls their cart to his position. “Hey, Uncle Brem.” 

 

Bremon Kira smiles weakly. He’s really not that old, closer to Marlon’s age, but time hasn’t been kind to him.  “It’s good to see you, Steela. I was worried, hearing what happened on the steps.” 

 

“It takes more than that to do us in,” Steela smiles broadly and jumps off the cart. “How are you and Frayl doing?” 

 

Bremon shrugs. “We’re managing like we always do. I saw your new camp. Do you have the animals settled in?” 

 

“We do. Thank you for holding onto our beasts while we were in the city,” Steela gestures to the Blackwells unloading from the cart. “We’ve got some more for you. These are Dalla, Thias, and Kason Blackwell.” 

 

Dalla approaches, cutting Luna and the ruping a wide berth. “Lord Kira,” she says and respectfully nods her head. “I’m Dalla Blackwell. Thank you so much for agreeing to keep these two.” 

 

Looking at her Bremon almost seems to be physically pained, but he speaks through it. “Shara is like a sister to me. I’d do anything to help her family.” 

 

“Thank you all the same.” She doesn't know why Bremon looks so distressed looking at her, last she checked she wasn't  _ that _ ugly. But it's not really disgust on his face, more like sadness.

 

Steela clears her throat. “We should get the boys into the house.”

 

“Of course,” Dalla falls back with her while the boys introduce themselves to Bremon. “Steela, what am I missing?” She whispers.

 

“Uncle Brem’s wife died in a crash seventeen years ago,” Steela whispers. “She was pregnant, and that baby would be just about our age. Whenever he talks about it with me, and that isn't often, he always says his daughter and I would have been best friends. And well, with you here I think that pair might have been a triad. And so does Brem.”

 

“Salt  _ gods.”  _ No wonder the poor man looks so sad! “And he’s been out here mourning the whole time?” 

 

“He would have gone feral if it wasn’t for us. I shouldn’t have asked him to keep the boys here; this is the house he shared with his wife so it has to be painful, but I don’t know where else he’s staying and wherever it is it can’t be comfortable or even that safe.”

 

“Is there anything we can do?” 

 

“Aside from the obvious of don’t bring it up, Saw and I haven’t found anything that works.” 

 

They’ll have to think of something but for now, don’t bring it up sounds like the best plan. They follow Bremon Kira into the house to help the boys get settled in.

 

…

 

There haven't been this many people in Bremon’s house for seventeen years, during Mel-- no, he can't think of that. He can't think of Melaana or her Lifeday party or her baby or the last day they were all happy together, or he's going to lose it. He'd almost broken down when he saw Steela riding in with the other girl by her side and it’s sheer conviction that keeps him dry-eyed now. Well, conviction and the quest to get Kason Blackwell something more suitable to wear. 

 

The young boy is dressed in fancy, ceremonial clothes in his family’s colors, clearly something Sanjay Rash had made for him. They look ridiculous paired with his Beast Rider genetics, like Shara in a wild trick riding costume. Bremon digs through an ancient trunk and unearths some more situationally appropriate clothes. Kason swims in them, but he and his cousins seem to know their way around fabric. They cut, tuck, roll, and take in the clothes to fit the boy’s smaller frame. 

 

“Thias is a bit of an escape artist,” Steela tells him. “Keep a close eye on him, will you?”

 

“I think his sister is putting the fear of the force into him,” Brem says and nods toward Dalla Blackwell saying something about “the cat” and “Father” and “chum” to two frantically nodding heads. 

 

“Be good for Lord Kira,” she orders, and holds out her arms to hug them.

 

Steela brings his attention back to her. “Dalla and I need to go. Thank you again for agreeing to take care of them.”     

 

“Of course,” he doesn’t know the Blackwells, but anything for his beast rider “sister” and anything for Steela. “Take anything you need. And Steela?” 

 

“Yes?” 

 

Without warning Bremon squashes her in a hug. “Be safe.” 

 

“Uncle Brem,” Steela hugs him back. “Of course I will.” 

 

The girls go out the back door and Bremon forces himself not to watch them leave. He directs the boys to a bedroom to get settled in when there’s a commotion and a female shriek from the back. 

 

Thias Blackwell sits up like someone lit his pants on fire. “That’s --!” 

 

“I’ll handle it,” Bremon says and shuts the door on the escape artists. He runs over to the nearest window to see. 

 

Steela and Dalla are in the ruping paddock, saddling Princess for flight. Or more accurately, Steela is saddling Princess. Dalla stands a good distance back, stiff as a board. 

 

“Steela, it hates me!” she cries. 

 

“‘It’ is a she and her name is Princess,” Steela informs her. “She and her brother Frayl are Uncle Brem’s best mounts. I’ve been riding her since I was old enough to sit up. She showed us the Nest! Princess doesn’t hate anyone.” 

 

“If you say so.” The northern girl doesn’t sound convinced but she tries to approach again, hand outstretched. “Nice ruping…” 

 

Princess eyes Dalla warily and once she gets within reach, the ruping screeches and wildly flaps its wings. 

 

Steela blinks. “Okay, so maybe she hates you a little.” 

 

Frayl ambles up to the two girls, no doubt to see what all the fuss is about. 

 

“Look, this one doesn’t want to kill me,” Dalla points at Frayl. “Can we take it?” 

 

“That’s Frayl, and Uncle Brem would probably kill me if I took him. Just try one more time.” 

 

“Fine,” Dalla fixes Princess with a look. “Okay, overgrown seagull --  _ hey!”  _

 

Frayl shoves her with his wing and squawks, as if saying  _ don’t call my sister an overgrown seagull, northerner!  _ Steela bursts out laughing. 

 

“It’s not funny!” Dalla cries, cheeks bright red. 

 

“Oh yeah it is!” 

 

Brem smiles watching the two of them, and for a second he thinks he sees a shadow about their size moving inside the barn, laughing as well. 

 

He shuts his eyes to unsee the illusion but that only makes it worse. In his mind’s eye he sees her, a tiny clone of Melaana helping Steela saddle Princess and giggling at Dalla. They would have been such good friends. And behind him...

 

No. This isn't real; he won’t torture himself with what could have been. Bremon opens his eyes and forces himself to grasp reality: there are only two girls in the paddock. No third running there or in the barn, and no woman hovering behind him watching carefully.

 

Through her laughter Steela holds out a hand. “Just run for it and I’ll swing you up!”

 

Dalla does and narrowly avoids Princess’ wings. Steela swings her onto the noble beast’s back and Dalla clings to her for dear life. Princess clearly isn't happy with her new rider.

 

“Easy, girl,” Steela pets the ruping’s neck. “Dalla’s a friend. We don't want to throw her off.”

 

Brem has to smile when he sees the look on Dalla’s face. 

 

“Dalla, ease up. She's not going to kill us.”

 

“Are you so sure about that?”

 

“Positive.” She spurs Princess and they take off into the air. “Bye, Uncle Brem!” She yells back.

 

“Be careful!” Bremon shouts after them. “Both of you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, poor Brem. If you’d like to see him when he was happy, then The Ashla Awareness is the story for you. If you want sadness however, you’ve come to the right place.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone for commenting, and please don’t hesitate to comment or to check out the new age and character model references in the forum!


	52. Charting a New Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: Shara did hear about Ommin's death. She was greatly saddened by his passing because other than Melaana he was the one person at the Rash Estate who was truly kind to her, asking nothing in return. She put a great deal of thought into how she might pay her condolences or honor the man she knew but she also had other matters on her mind. ~ DK

Shara felt like she had done as much charting as Jamos this past year. A good sailor, he told her, could make his way even without the aid of a nav computer. He was teaching her how to read the stars and the currents and how he went about planning the voyages for not only the  _ Polaris _ but all of the ships in their fleet. And it was  _ their _ fleet, the Blackwell fleet. She was a Blackwell, had been for almost an entire year now. That sense of belonging and purpose still thrilled her.

 

Shara's charting however was of a more personal nature and she didn't get a holiday from it even when they were here at the Hold for salt and light and the freeze to follow. Niamh had taught her how to count the days of her cycle, to take her temperature, and what signs to watch for to judge when she was ovulating. It should be a reliable method to follow when she and Jamos decided they were ready to try for a baby of their own. For now however, enjoying their niece and nephew, and their new life together as husband and wife was enough. And trying  _ not _ to get pregnant had become a more creative and enjoyable pursuit than she could have ever imagined.

 

The crew teased them good naturedly about how the couple were always in physical contact. Either they were holding hands, or his arm circled around her shoulders or her waist. She might be rubbing his back or resting a hand on his knee. It was true that since their wedding night and then their final acceptance of a shared cabin aboard the ship, they seldom wanted to be apart.

 

It was neither a surprise nor unwanted when he slipped quietly up behind her while she sat at the desk filling in her most recent temp readings and observations and wrapped her in his embrace.

 

“Still in the clear, Love?” He asked and commenced nibbling on her ear.

 

“Mmhm,” she nodded.

 

He pulled her up to stand. “Then come back to bed.” Jamos grinned seductively and began to lead her in that direction.

 

Shara smiled but slowly the expression fell.

 

He knew that look. Sitting on the edge of the mattress he drew her on to his lap. “Shar, what's wrong?”

 

“We're safe this week,” she answered with a sigh. “But next week…”

 

“Ah.” Her husband stroked her hair. “Next week when we're celebrating our anniversary.”

 

“Aye.” She snuggled against him. “I had hoped we wouldn't have to… be careful that night of all nights.” 

 

“Well…”

 

Shara didn't have to be looking into his face to hear the smile in his voice.

 

“First of all we make the most of while we're safe this week.” With a growl he rolled her over on the bed, making her giggle. Then he gazed down at her with a more inquisitive expression. “Then maybe just this once we don't have to be quite so careful?” The grin returned. “Throw our sheets to the wind and take whatever the salt gods will.”

 

“That sounds good,”she agreed happily.

 

“You know what sounds even better?” He chuckled, nuzzling against her. “The way you call out my name when I…” 

 

There was no need for articulate words after that and Shara was thankful for the early salt and light gift that Lana had surprised them with when they had arrived back home after their journeys. The Hold had been remodeled giving Shara and Jamos a wing of their own. Dalla and little Thias each had their own room near their parents. Most importantly soundproofing had been added so that the two families might not disturb each other and locks added to avoid embarrassing interruptions.

 

… 

 

Three weeks later Shara wasn't feeling so good about the decision to leave things up to the salt gods. She sat on the edge of the bed with the plastoid stick in her hand wrestling with her emotions. 

 

Jamos entered, smiling but as soon as he saw the look on her face his own flushed with worry. “Shara, what's wrong.”

 

She held up the negative test and tried to merely shrug but when she attempted to speak tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. “It wasn't really… The test, I… I thought maybe… but I started right on schedule. I should have known I'm not…” A sob drowned out the rest of what she was trying to say.

 

He was by her side like a shot and wrapped his arms around her. “I am so sorry.” He held her and let her cry. “If I thought it was going to… I never would have suggested that we not take some kind of precaution. I know you don’t want to get the hypo but there’s something I can take, isn’t there? I’ll ask Niamh… I’ll…”

 

“Or…” she said softly, completely halting his tirade. She pushed away from him slightly so she could look into his eyes. “We could really, actually start trying?”

 

He stared at her and for a moment he was lost for words. “Is… is that what you really want? Are you sure? I didn’t want to bring it up if you weren’t ready.”

 

Shara nodded, biting her lip. The hope in his eyes was enough to turn her tears to those of joy. 

 

“We can really start trying… to have a baby?” Jamos jumped up, to excited to sit still. 

 

“Aye.” She laughed.

 

Then he frowned, all concern. “But not right now. You said you started. Are you hurting? Do you need me to get you something?”

 

“I took a pain stym a little while ago. It’s starting to work.” 

 

Jamos gave her a naughty little by grin. “I knew you were getting close to that time of month so I… er…” He pulled something from the deep pocket of his tunic and tossed it to her. 

 

She caught the object and looked at it laughing. It was a package of her favorite fudge mint cookies. She always craved them when she was feeling moody and hormonal. “You know me too well.” 

 

“Not too well I think.” He bent to kiss her. “I do know you’d probably like to stay in bed all day and binge some holodrama.”

 

“Aye.” She laughed again. 

 

“But I think you’re going to want to get up.” 

 

“What for?”

 

His grin widened. “Marl’s trying to get Thias to take his first steps. He’s getting pretty close. Lana's got the holocam but I thought you’d rather witness it in person.” 

 

“Would I ever!” Shara was up and racing him down the hallway in a heartbeat. They arrived just in time to see their little nephew shuffle a few shaky steps across the livingroom floor toward the outstretched hands of his father and then plop giggling on his well-padded behind and scoot the rest of the way. 

 

Marlon scooped up the baby, tossed him into the air and caught him gently. He noticed the others. “Did you see my boy?” He looked over at Lana. “Did you get the Holo?”

 

She was still recording with a huge smile on her face as well. “I got it.”

 

Jamos bent and reached out for his nephew. “Will you walk to me, champ?”

 

Marlon set Thias back down on his feet so that he was facing Jamos to see what the little boy would do. Grinning, knowing now what was expected and that he really could do it, Thias began his toddle across the floor. They all cheered him on. Then at the last moment he looked as if he might plop back down but instead he changed direction toward Shara and following his forward momentum and top heaviness practically ran into her arms. 

 

“Good catch!” Jamos whistled joining them and ruffled the feathery brown hair on his nephew’s head. 

 

“I’d better be.” Shara said grinning at him over Thias. 

 

“Doesn’t hurt to practice.” Jamos grinned back. 

 

Marlon walked over to them and retrieved his son. “Is there something you two would like to tell us?”

 

“Well, er… aye,” Jamos cleared his throat mock seriously. “Is that thing still recording?”

 

Shara shoved him playfully. 

 

“Shara and I would like to announce that we are going to officially start trying.”

 

Marlon gave him a pat on the back and Lana did sort of a victory dance jostling the cam as she did so. 

 

“Try what?” Dalla asked innocently. 

 

“Catching fish.” Shara laughed. 

 

The little girl scoffed. “Everybody knows you can’t catch fish in the middle of a freeze.”

 

“We can try.” Jamos looked into his wife’s eyes, tilted up her chin, and kissed her. 

 

“Well please, not here in the middle of the living room.” Lana teased. 

 

. . .

 

They were all hope and excitement and certain of a positive outcome. That is, until a month later when Jamos paced outside the ‘fresher door waiting for her to emerge with the test she had just taken. He didn’t have to ask. He could see by her downcast expression that the result was once again negative. 

 

Tears filled her eyes and he wiped them away. “It’s alright.” He hugged her. “It’ll happen when the time is right. Just means we get to keep on trying, aye?”

 

They did both enjoy the trying part. And Niamh suggested that they keep it fun and exciting so as not to get discouraged. So they visited the hot springs together, praying to the salt gods (or maybe just calling out for their help in the matter). They spent a night or two in the inn at the pub just for a change of scenery. And they managed to fog up the greenhouse transparisteel a few times as well. They were in this together and they did enjoy being together. 

 

After another month Jamos realized that the freeze would soon be over. He would have to get back to work arranging the schedule of voyages for the next fishing season. He sat at his desk pouring over charts and calendars. 

 

He began to wonder what they would do about continuing to try for a baby as the season progressed. If it took much longer could they continue their efforts aboard the  _ Polaris _ ? The crew were used to the couple running off to the Captain’s cabin to be alone by now but even with locks and soundproofing everyone knew what they were doing. It didn’t offer much in the way of privacy. Would it be too much stress and lessen their chances of conceiving? 

 

What if they did conceive while they were off on a voyage and Shara was terribly sick or there were complications? Maybe he should stay home, let someone else captain his ship for a while until they knew one way or the other. But he knew Shara wouldn’t want him give up sailing and she would want to be with him as long as it was possible for her to be so. 

 

She was humming and he smiled but he didn’t look up from his work. “Good morning, Love. I was just getting a start on the scheduling for the voyages.” 

 

Shara took a breath from the tune she was humming long enough to say “Mmhm.” came up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

 

“Thought I might put the  _ Wave Sabre _ on the first northern run. Have the  _ Polaris _ stay closer to home, sound alright?”

 

She nodded and added the words to the tune she had been humming,

 

_ Aye, she said when he asked of the crew, then, _

_ Aye, she said she will carry them true, then, _

_ Aye, she said and deliver them through, then,  _

_ All for the Captian’s Lady. _

 

Jamos knew what the words meant and his eyes widened. “Carry them… You’re not? We’re not?”

 

Again she nodded and grinned and held up the plastoid stick that confirmed her condition. “We’re gonna have a baby!” 

 

He jumped up from his seat, picked her up and spun her around, whooping with glee. Then he set her back on her feet carefully. “Oh, salt gods, I probably shouldn’t. We’ll have to be more careful. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to sit, put your feet up? Can I get you anything?” He steered her back to the seat where he had been sitting at the desk.

 

“I’m fine.” She assured him, laughing. “Niamh has been telling me that I shouldn’t really have to change any of my activities. I’ve been eating healthy and getting exercise already…” 

 

“But you can’t…” He looked at the schedule he’d just been working on and ran one hand over his beard while with the other hand he picked up a stylus and started to make a change on the datapad. 

 

“Jamos, I can still go sailing, maybe not the actual beast mastering, but I could direct someone else from the deck…” 

 

He gazed at her and then knelt down in front of the chair. “We’ll figure it out.” Then with a hesitant look on his face as if asking her permission, even though his hands were almost always on her in some way shape or form, he reached out and placed a hand on her abdomen. “We’re gonna have a baby,” He said quietly as if he might wake up the infant. 

 

“We’re gonna have a baby.” She repeated. 

 

…

 

It was midday before Jamos and Shara had finished their own private celebration and made their way out to the kitchen to get some lunch. Conveniently the rest of the family were congregated there for the same purpose. Dalla was seated at the table coloring and Thias in his highchair beating with a spoon on the tray while their parents fixed a meal for each of them. 

 

“They’re all in there.” Shara whispered to her husband in the hallway before they entered. 

 

He grinned back at her. “How do you want to tell them?”

 

“I’ve got an idea.” She instantly dropped her expression into a scowl of displeasure and as she turned away from him she called back over her shoulder as if continuing an ongoing argument. “Melaana Hadassa Blackwell is a fine name.”

 

He caught on quickly and followed her into the room complaining, “but didn't you always shorten your friend's name to 'Mel'. I mean 'Mel Blackwell', Grandmother will have a fit.”

 

Her eyes shone with merriment but she didn’t let on a bit in her tone of voice. “We could call her Laana for short.”

 

Jamos burst into his signature grin. He couldn’t help it. He gestured toward his sister in law. “Well, that's just gonna be confusing and besides it might not even be a girl. What if it's a boy? Jamos Jr. has a nice ring to it.”

 

Lana looked back and forth between their now both beaming faces. “You’re not… You Are!” 

 

“Congratulations!” Marlon thumped his little brother on the back and hugs were given all around. 

 

Jamos then knelt before his niece and addressed her directly. "You're gonna have a little baby cousin, Chirn Bait."   
  


She nodded happily. “‘Cause you finally caught the right fish!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so a new member of the Blackwell clan is on the way! And lots more action adventure and fun! I finally got around to adding a new chapter to my story Some Say I got Devil! it's a flash way back to the history of Onderon so I guess it sort of affects these lovely characters as well. So give that a read if you get a chance and as always thanks for reading and for your lovely comments! Keep 'em coming!


	53. I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is coming early for the girls, that is if Dalla can survive her ruping ride. -LS

“We’re dead,” Dalla announces when Princess banks sharply right and tips them. “Steela, we’re dead. The ruping’s mutinying.” 

 

Steela ignores her, mostly. “Princess, are you mutinying or does the ship’s captain need to chill out?” Princess snorts. “That's ruping for ‘of course I'm not mutinying, Dalla.’” 

 

“So you speak ruping?” Dalla wraps her arms even tighter around Steela’s waist and she's not letting go for love or money. “Some people say that Beast Riders can communicate telepathically with their animals, but I thought you’d stop short of --  _ AAH!” _

 

Steela steers Princess into a nosedive, grinning wickedly. 

 

“See? It’s completely safe.” 

 

Dalla curses when they finally level out. 

 

“When this is over, we’re going up north,” she swears. “You and I are going out sailing, and I am going to shove you overboard.” 

 

“I can swim. Come on! There's nothing quite like flying on a ruping.”

 

No, there isn't. If Princess didn't hate her guts, then Dalla would be ecstatic. Being on the back of a ruping affords the same kind of freedom as sailing on a day with a good wind, like nothing can touch you. But there’s also something else about it, something exhilarating. 

 

She gives up. “Alright, I admit it. Her hatred of me aside, this is amazing.” 

 

“I knew we were going to make a beast rider out of you somehow.” 

 

_ And I’ll make a sailor out of you when this is over. _ Dalla tosses her head to get her hair out of her face. With the Highlands rising up before them, Princess gains altitude and soars over one of the peaks, revealing a spectacular view of the river and the valley it carved millions of years ago. 

 

“How far is it back to camp?” Dalla asks, nearly shouting over the wind.

 

“Not far by air. We should be back soon.” Her comlink buzzes. “Will you --?”

 

Dalla already has ahold of the comlink. She checks the caller’s ID before answering. “Lux, it's Dalla. What is it?” 

 

_ “Hello, Dalla. Did you two drop the boys off at the safehouse yet?”  _

 

“Aye, we’re on the way back now. Is something going on?”

 

_ “Oh yes. One of the militia’s scouts saw something I think you need to take a look at. It's about five kliks north of the camp, following the river.” _

 

“Five kliks? We’re on our way. What is it?”

 

_ “You’ll see. You can't miss it,”  _ Lux says and cuts off the transmission. 

 

Steela glances over her shoulder. “What was that all about?”

 

“Scout saw something five kliks north of the camp. Lux didn't say what it was, only that we can't miss it. How soon can we get there?”

 

“On Princess? Not long.” She pats the ruping’s neck. “Come on, Prin. We’re taking a detour.”

 

It only takes them three kliks to see what Lux is talking about. Countless, massive vessels choke the river, moving steadily downstream with their white sails billowed out like birds’ wings. 

 

Each vessel is topped with a banner fluttering in the wind. Dalla doesn't need to see them to know that they’re blue, with the black ship sailing across the field. 

 

Dalla starts cheering only a split second before Steela does. Even Princess seems to get a second wind of energy.

 

The northern fleet has arrived. 

 

…

 

“Come on girl! Let's go see our new friends.” Steela urges Princess and then let's out a whoop of victory. “Oh my gods, they’re here! They’re here! They made it!”

 

“They must have already been on the move before the execution,” Dalla grins and leans over Steela’s shoulder to see better. “Circle ‘round the port side when we get closer. Let’s see who all showed up.” 

 

“Aye, captain!”  

 

Princess hurdles them toward the incoming fleet and Steela urges her down for their turn. She circles around starboard instead of port, but Dalla doesn't care. She’s beaming so hard her face hurts seeing the fleet and the men and women on deck. 

 

“Do you recognize any of them?” Steela asks. 

 

“I recognize all of them!” Dalla feels like a little kid opening her salt and light festival presents. “Over there, with the pink banners. That’s the Harkons!”

 

She catches a glimpse of red hair on the deck of one of the Harkons’ ships. “That’s Ephraim Harkon by the mast and his sister Elinor’s at the stern.”

 

“Your friends?”

 

“I knew they’d come.” There was never any question about it. “Their father Glover must be on another vessel, since both the twins are here.”

 

Below, Elinor’s head snaps up to follow the ruping and she shouts a greeting. She must see Steela and Dalla, but can she make out their faces from the distance? Dalla waves to her just in case. 

 

Elinor brightens and she waves back before yelling over her shoulder to Ephraim. But before her twin can do or say anything, Princess bears past their vessel. 

 

“Are those Flint banners?” Steela asks, getting a look at another ship. 

 

“Aye. Werda’s going to be in seventh heaven.” Clearly the shadow girl knows Flint banners if she recognized Dalla’s, and she’d love a chance to speak with anyone close to Grandmother Flint. Dalla doubts the matriarch herself is with the fleet, but her sons and daughters are. Their ships stretch from one bank to the other, a curtain of support. There are so many family members Dalla isn’t quite sure which is which, but she does catch a glimpse of her mother’s eldest brother, Wyman. The entire clan buzzes on the deck anyway, too preoccupied to notice the ruping or its riders. 

 

Steela whistles. “There are so many of them.”

 

“Northern or southern, Flints are Flints,” Dalla laughs. 

 

“Werda could have told me that. Sweet drexls, where are we going to  _ put  _ all of them?” 

 

“Y’know, I’m honestly not sure…” 

 

“They can stay on the ship,” Steela decides and then snickers. “Look over there. I recognize  _ those  _ banners.” 

 

“That's Lord Bralykburn all right.” She smirks. “And it looks like he brought all his troops.” Their roast must have gotten to him better than they thought.

 

“Should we buzz their ship?”

Do they want to push their luck? “I’m very tempted, but I'm not sure we should do it so publicly. Do you want to circle him?”

 

“Let him see it’s us? That sounds great.” She guides Princess into another dive and brings them into a clearly visible range. They circle over Hugo’s ship, and look down at him.

 

Hugo follows them with his gaze and they don't need to be any closer to know he’s sweating. 

 

“We really got him good. I’ve never seen him like this before,” Dalla whispers. 

 

“Shh, don’t ruin it. Look scarier,” Steela urges. 

 

They probably look like reaving Beast Riders of old, and it shows on Hugo’s face. Dalla almost feels sorry for him. Almost. “Salt gods, I wish we had a holocam.” 

 

Steela shoots Hugo one last terrifying look and then takes them away. “And that’s Southern Whore one, House Bralykburn zero!” she cackles. 

 

“Your first victory as a Lady of a Great House. It’s a nice one, too. You straight-up roasted a Lord and he’s still scared of you.” 

 

“And I’m looking forward to seeing more of his terror.” She changes the subject. “Okay, a few of these smaller vessels have seashell banners. Who’s that?” 

 

“The Kretashes. They’re vassals to House Harkon but I’m not surprised they’re flying their own banners. My father says Rash’s mother was a Kretash, and they’ve been focused on proving their loyalty ever since.” 

 

“I would too if I were them.” She takes in the sight of the fleet. “Holy drexls, this is huge. And we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” 

 

“But we’re getting close.” Their circle is almost complete, and they’re coming ever-closer to the ships bearing Blackwell banners. 

 

“Recognize any of them?” 

 

“Oh, do I! See the smaller one, up at the head of the fleet? She’s my ship,  _ Maiden’s Heel.”  _

 

Steela gapes. “That ship is yours?” 

 

“I barely recognize her.” Dalla’s never seen Maiden’s Heel as anything but a fishing vessel, but now she’s armed to the teeth and her deck is packed with fighting men instead of nets and crates. “But aye, she’s my ship.” 

 

“I need to move north if it means I get a ship,” Steela mumbles. “Moving on. The one to her ri -- starboard, whose is she?” 

 

“That’s the  _ Polaris _ , my uncle’s ship. I think I see him at the rail!” 

 

Their circle brings them closer and Dalla gets a better look. Yes, that  _ is  _ Uncle Jamos! He’s watching them and Princess and waving politely until he finally recognizes the second rider. And then he cheers and whoops and cups his hands around his mouth to yell “Chirn Bait!” 

 

Dalla cautiously unwraps one hand from Steela’s waist to wave back. “You came!” 

 

The wind rips her words away and Jamos isn’t very intent on hearing them anyway. Instead he races to the bow and shouts to the ship at the head of the fleet: “Marlon! Marlon,  _ look!”  _

 

“The first ship is the  _ Queen Lana,  _ my father’s flagship,” Dalla explains before Steela can ask. 

 

“She’s huge! Do you want to put Princess down on her?” 

 

Dalla shakes her head. “Her weight will break the mast. But can we go near the bow, to see my father?”

 

“We’ll give them an escort until they drop anchor. Come on, girl. Let's go see the Lord of the North!”

 

When they get close enough to see Marlon, he’s distracted yelling something that sounds like “what?” to his brother over the waves. Finally Jamos gives up and just points, and Marlon follows the direction. 

 

Her father sees them and his face lights up like a thousand suns. She’s not sure whether he’s going to yell a greeting or cry. 

 

Salt gods, she’s not sure whether  _ she's  _ going to. He’s the best thing she’s seen in weeks. 

 

Dalla manages a small wave. “Hi, Father.”

 

Marlon waves in kind, equally choked with emotion, and doesn’t say a thing. 

 

Princess streaks past Marlon’s ship, leaving the fleet behind. Dalla watches her father until he’s turned into nothing more than a dot on deck. 

 

“They’ll be at base soon,” Steela says, watching her watch the fleet. “We’re going to give them a proper welcome when they do.” 

 

…

 

Dendup is beaming when the fleet anchors in the river. “Northerners involving themselves in a southern war. I can’t say I saw that coming before I knew you were here.” He winks at Dalla. 

 

“I can’t say I did either,” she admits. 

 

“Or any of us did,” Lux says. “Rash almost did us a favor by bothering the north. There’s no other way the navy would have involved themselves to take back Onderon unless I called in the banner oath.” 

 

“We would have come. We’re going to need everyone we can get.” For the first time in her life, Dalla thanks the salt gods that her mother’s side of the family is so huge. 

 

“Alright, I see sailors getting into rowboats,” Saw says, changing the subject. “Which ones do we need to talk to?” 

 

“I’m just waiting for my father and uncle. The others will all be behind them anyway; it would be extremely rude for them to talk to us before their Liege Lord does.” 

 

“There is bad blood between some of the northern houses. They may jump at the chance for a slight.” Dendup muses.

 

Steela and Dalla share a knowing look. “Not to Dalla’s face, they won’t.” 

 

Dendup gives them a look and it’s clear he knows something happened, just not what. And maybe he doesn’t want to know either. “Still, keep a lookout just in case they land before him. I’d rather not have  --” 

 

_ “Dalla!”  _

 

Dalla’s head snaps in the direction of the booming voice, and there he is. 

 

Marlon Blackwell jumps out of his rowboat into waist-deep water and races up the riverbank past his men, past the other lords, past Jamos, past the militiamen and rebels, and even past King Dendup with no more concern than if they’re shrubbery. His only concern is Dalla. 

 

She only gets a few steps toward him before Marlon reaches her and scoops her into an embrace like she’s a little girl again.

 

“Thank the gods,” he gasps. “When that slime grabbed you on the steps of the palace, I thought I’d lost you. After your mother…” He chokes and squeezes Dalla tighter. “I couldn't...I don't know what I would have done. Thank the gods.”

 

She hugs him back and it takes all she has not to cry. “You’re here, Father!”

 

“After what I saw I can't be anywhere else.” He sets her back on her feet and suddenly realizes there's only one of his children present. “Where’s your brother?” 

 

“He’s fine; he and Kason are at a safehouse. What about Cade?”

 

“He's at the Hold with Aunt Shara.” Marlon breathes a sigh of relief. “I'm so glad you’re okay.”

 

There’s silence, and then King Dendup speaks: “So this must be the elusive Lord Marlon Blackwell.” 

 

It takes Marlon a second to register that yes, that is the king speaking and yes, his voice is coming from behind him. 

 

“Your grace,” he bows his head. “My apologies; I didn’t realize you were there. Please pardon my rudeness, I was…” 

 

“You’re a father first, Lord Blackwell.” Dendup’s expression holds no offense at all. “There’s nothing to pardon.” 

 

“Your grace is merciful,” Marlon keeps his head ducked in deference a moment longer. “Thank you. I’ve never been prouder to serve my king.” 

 

“We need more men like you,”  Dendup asserts. “Do I have your loyalty?” 

 

“On my honor,” he stands still and then says: “Is this where we do the kneeling bit?” 

 

Dendup shakes his head. “Let’s not and say we did.” 

 

Dalla couldn’t be more grateful to the king for sparing her family’s pride, and neither can Marlon. The Lord of the North looks again to his daughter, then back to Dendup. 

 

“The navy is yours,” he says. “My life is yours. And all my bannermen will swear the same behind me.” 

 

“I accept your declaration,” Dendup replies formally. “And I promise the north will be duly rewarded for your support upon our victory.” 

 

He extends a hand, and Marlon shakes it. 

 

Dalla speaks up when they step back. “Father, this is Lux Bonteri.” 

 

“Lord Blackwell,” Lux holds out his hand. “It’s good to meet you.” 

 

“You remind me very much of your father, young man,” Marlon says. “The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for helping Dalla.”

 

“Thank you for keeping my family’s assets out of Count Dooku’s hands. I look forward to continuing our families’ friendship,” Lux replies.

 

“And next to him are the rebellion’s leaders, Lord Saw and Lady Steela of the House Gerrera.” Dalla crosses her fingers behind her back that Marlon will just go with it.

 

He glances over to her but then goes with it. “House Gerrera. I can’t say I’ve heard of your house before, but you two seem brave, honorable people. I’m honored to work with you.” 

 

“Thank you, Lord Blackwell,” Steela says. “We’re a new house, and we’re so thankful for all your assistance.” 

 

Dalla’s eyes go wide in the universal gesture for  _ No Steela, don’t tell him you’re a new house!  _

 

She wipes the expression from her face when Marlon looks back at her. He must sense her hand in all this. “A new house?” 

 

Dalla shrugs, trying to play it off as best she can. “I did a thing,” she whispers. 

 

Marlon doesn’t bite. “What thing?” 

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Hugo Bralykburn approaching with the other lords and Jamos. “Let’s not talk about the thing.” 

 

He follows her gaze to Hugo. “We’ll discuss this later,” he says and folds his arms behind his back when the other men get closer. “My king, may I introduce my bannermen Lord Glover of House Harkon, Lord Hugo of House Bralykburn, Lord Wyman of House Flint, and --.”  

 

“Your grace,” Jamos pushes past the other lords and kneels at Dendup’s feet. “Your grace, my son. Thank you for looking out for him in the palace. He’s impulsive; I feared the worst but you were there looking out for him, protecting him, and I don’t know how to thank you.” 

 

“...And my brother, Captain Jamos Blackwell.” 

 

“You’re Kason’s father?” Dendup asks, gesturing for Jamos to rise. 

 

“Yes your Grace,” Jamos gets to his feet. 

 

“He's a good boy, even if he made a poor decision,” Dendup smiles a little. “It was my pleasure to look out for him. I was so very lonely, and he brought me some company in return for my looking out for him. And of course I can't take all the credit; General Tandin kept his eyes open for us.”

 

“I'm still forever in your debt.” Jamos says humbly and bows his head once more before putting his hat back on and turning to Dalla with his little boy grin. “Chirn Bait!” He exclaims and grabs her in a hug. “Good to have you back.”

 

“I missed you too, Uncle Jamos.” 

 

Marlon’s straightened up at Tandin’s name. “The general, where is he?”

 

“He's with the militia,” Steela says. “He’ll be back soon, I'm sure.”

 

“Until he does,we have other business to settle.” Lord Harkon drops to his knee and Bralykburn and Flint follow his lead at warp speed, followed by their vassals. “Sire, it's our honor to follow our liege to serve you. All we have is at your disposal.”

 

A crowd of rebels, militiamen, and sailors is starting to gather, staring at the kneeling northerners. There are other banners approaching, foreign ones escorted by militiamen. It must be the Beast Riders, responding to their new lord and lady’s call.

 

“All hail Ramsis of the House Dendup,” Marlon bellows to everyone who can hear him. “The first of his name, rightful king of Onderon in Iziz and in the north!”

 

Then he drops to a knee. 

 

For a second Dalla doesn't move. She's too shocked to see her father, the unsinkable Lord of the North, kneeling.

 

And then she goes to her knee by his side. 

 

Steela, Saw, Lux, all the rebels and sailors and militiamen, they all kneel for the king. 

 

…

 

Kason wandered around the big old house aimlessly. For being rescued it sure felt like he was still a prisoner. The old guy, Kason still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to call him, Lord Kira? Mr. Kira? Uncle Brem? Had stationed himself in a chair in front of the exit. The girls said something about him losing someone once who he was supposed to protect. The old guy wasn’t about to make that mistake again. 

 

Thias had found an old flight simulator and seemed perfectly happy soaring around in holo projected star fighters and freighters, but Kason couldn’t sit still. So he tried every door and searched every room. Mostly he just found dust. The old guy obviously didn’t spend much time indoors. 

 

Kason wished he could go out. Those rupings looked really cool! He’d love the chance to fly around on one. He had his mom’s beast rider genes. Surely, it wouldn’t hate him like it had Dalla. The dalgos had been great! He remembered the holo he’d once seen of his mother’s trick riding days. She’d been amazing, even more than she was with the Brylks back home. 

 

He sighed, closed one door, and opened another. This was… a baby’s room. It was all set up. There was a beautifully carved cradle, a dresser and a changing table. He smiled when he remembered that his own baby sister had just recently started climbing out of her crib. Then he frowned. Lana had probably learned all kinds of other adorable tricks while he was gone. 

 

A tear trickled down Kason’s cheek and he swiped it away angrily. He missed his family, his brothers, and sister, and his mom and dad and old Portia. The norcog wouldn’t last much longer but they’d been saying that for months. Surely she’d still be there to greet him when he got home. She’d always been there, for as long as he could remember. 

 

It had been so stupid of him to run down south. What did he think he would be able to accomplish? He’d just been so angry that the man who had hurt his mother was now trying to hurt his cousin. He brushed away a few more tears and swallowed a sob. Kason was 12, too old to be bursting into tears at the slightest thing. 

 

He focused again on his surroundings. There was a portable holo projector unit lying on the top of the dresser next to a silver handled brush and rattle. He picked it up and before he thought better of it, activated the image. 

 

It was her. The girl from the painting in the palace. She was smiling, no, laughing. There was no sound but she twirled around as if music was playing and then dropped into a deep curtsy and stood again grinning. She was beautiful. But why was she here and why was she in the palace? What was the connection? Kason almost didn’t care. He just wanted to keep gazing at her. 

 

And then two things happened at once. The craft that Thias was flying in the simulator crashed and burned and somewhere in the house a comlink chimed. Someone was rushing down the hallway toward his hiding place. 

 

Quickly Kason shut off the holo image and stuffed the projector in his pocket, just as the door to the room was shoved open the rest of the way. 

 

“What are you doing in here?” Lord Kira demanded. He seemed to be barely containing an angry outburst and then waved the question away. “Doesn’t matter. Your father just commed. They’re coming up the river. He and your uncle and half the north will be here soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing, and don’t forget to check out DK’s Some Say I Got Devil if you want to see more of the Blackwells.


	54. The First Mate of the Captian's Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my first born who's gonna be sixteen next week!!! It's sweet to remember becoming a mom for the first time. ~ DK

Her welcome back on board for the first voyage of the season couldn't have been more different from a year earlier when the Polaris crew had their first chance to congratulate the newly married Captain and Beast master. Since Ness had informed the rest of them that the couple had only had a small private ceremony with no opportunity of a proper bedding, officers and sailors alike had taken it upon themselves to make sure that this tradition was carried out to the full extent. Not that either the Beast master or the captain had minded this at the time. Jamos and Shara had taken full advantage of their first night together in the Captain's cabin.

 

Upon this boarding however, Shara received no such rough handling. Once again the crew had heard the happy news, from Ness most likely. The crew treated her as if she were wrought from crystal. 

 

“I’m fine, really,” she insisted with a laugh but Jamos didn’t seem to mind his men taking extra care with his wife and child either. She explained that the midwife had given her permission to make the journey and that other than a little queeziness in the mornings she didn’t really feel all that different. That is until they brought aboard the first catch. 

 

Shara observed from the deck a little disappointed that she couldn’t be out with the brylks. She was armed a pair of microbinoculars and a short range comm to the sailors out in the little boat. It wasn’t the same as being there herself but she could give instruction and she grudgingly had to admit that her replacements did almost as well as she could have done. 

 

It was when the nets were lowered to bring in the haul that it hit her, a wave of the most rancid smell she had ever experienced. How had she never noticed before how strong and just how disgusting rupingfish smelled when they were freshly caught? Was it just because she was usually down in the little boat and not in the thick of the action? No, it wasn’t and she knew it. It was the pregnancy and if she didn’t get off the deck and away from that smell quickly she was going bring up everything she’d eaten for breakfast that morning. 

 

With hand clamped over her nose and mouth she raced to the cabin she shared with Jamos and slammed the door closed behind her. It helped a little but it still felt as if the stench was clinging to her. She had been told that eating crackers might help to calm a rebellious stomach but there was nothing like that at hand and she doubted whether they would be strong enough to battle against this feeling anyhow. And then she remembered that there was a package of those fudge mint cookies she loved packed away in her sea chest.

 

The smell of the mint was an instant deterrent to the other vile fragrance permeating the room from out on deck. For a few moments she just sat on the edge of the bed smelling the heavenly cookies. When the worst of the nausea had passed, she pulled one from the bag and took a bite. 

 

This was how Jamos found her as soon as he was able to get away from his duties, sitting cross legged on the bed eating the cookies one after the other with a relieved smile on her face. 

 

“Sudden violent craving?” he asked, somewhat amused at the picture she made after worrying that she was alright. 

 

“Close the door! The smell… the fish,” she said through a mouthful. “I didn’t expect it to be so strong. This helps, the mint.” 

 

He went to sit next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He kissed her temple and took the empty package from her hands. “I don’t know what Niamh would say about you binging on sweets. Maybe we could get you some chewing gum.” 

 

She grinned guiltily. “If there were ever a time I shouldn’t have to worry about my weight it’s now, aye?” 

 

There was a quick knock on the door and without waiting for an answer Ness poked his head in. “Is the Lady alright? The lads were worried for her.” 

 

Shara winced at the renewed scent that wafted in with him. 

 

“She’s fine.” Jamos motioned for him to close the door. 

 

Ness gave them a nod and then hurried to obey orders. 

 

She took the empty flimziplast package back from her husband and buried her nose in it as if she were hyperventilating. “Maybe that gum would be a good idea.”

 

…

 

Shara was trying not to get her hopes up but she really wanted a baby girl. She loved her nephew Thias but when she saw Dalla with him playing like she was a little momma herself, Shara thought it was the most adorable thing ever. So a girl first and then a boy, just like Marlon and Lana, that's what she wanted. 

 

She studied her datapad where she had entered the list of names. On the boy side there was only one: Kason, after her father. They had vaguely discussed middle names to go with it. Kason Jamos just didn't have that ring to it. Kason Alon? No, the endings were too similar. 

 

Shara couldn't bring herself to give it too much thought. She was so sure the baby would be a girl so those were the names she focused on. She'd been out voted on Melaana, but perhaps as a middle name? Hadassa after her mother was a favorite too. And then she thought of Irena. That was Shara's own middle name and she'd always liked it. She'd also learned that it was the name of her third great grandmother who was a Flint and had married into the Rupingwood family. 

 

“What do you think about Irena, love?” She asked Jamos as they sailed back towards the Hold. 

 

It was hard to believe that she was 20 weeks along already, halfway to her due date. The nausea had been bad but not unendurable until 12 weeks and then had thankfully left her. After that her belly really started to become noticeable and then just in the last couple of weeks she had started to feel the fluttery beginnings of movement. 

 

Jamos would lay for hours next to her with his hand on her stomach waiting to feel something. He thought he had once there was a twitch beneath his palm but he couldn't be sure. 

 

“Irena.” He mused. “I thought you liked Sanya.”

 

“I do like it but that's what Mel and Brem were going to name their little girl so I feel like that one's already been taken.”

 

He leaned his face close to her belly and asked, “what do you think of Irena?” Then his eyes opened wide. “Was that…” he asked hardly daring to believe it.

 

Shara nodded excitedly.

 

“She er he… it kicked! I felt it!”

 

“We'll know soon.” Shara laughed. 

 

…

 

Her appointment was scheduled for almost the moment they arrived on the dock at the Hold. Niamh had her put on a gown and climb up on exam table. It was so different than when the midwife had been scanning her almost 2 years ago for abnormalities. Now she had Jamos beside her holding her hand and there on the screen was the blurry image of their child.

 

Ten fingers and ten tiny toes! That precious profile! And then while she was moving the view to get a measurement of the baby's upper leg bone to check growth…

 

“Was that what I think it was?” Jamos asked with a laugh. 

 

Niamh moved the probe back just a bit so they had a clear image. She laughed too. “Well you were hoping to find out the gender weren't you?”

 

“Aye, we were,” Shara said shakily. She didn't want to be disappointed. She didn't have any right to be disappointed. They had waited so long for this. Healthy was really all that mattered but tears still filled her eyes.

 

“Couldn't get any more obvious than that.” Niamh gave another chuckle and went back to her scans and measurements.

 

She left them when she was finished so that Shara could get dressed. She must have thought the tears in Shara's eyes were just tears of joy. 

 

Jamos knew better. “He's healthy.” 

 

“He's perfect.” Shara swallowed and wiped her eyes. “I'd rather know now and get used to the idea than be surprised when he's born.”

 

“We can call him by his name now.” Jamos tried to cheer her.

 

“Kason.” She sighed and rubbed her belly. Her son responded by rolling over into a more comfortable position. She was sure he was relieved to be done with all the poking and prodding. She smiled. He  _ was _ more real to her now.

 

“Still needs a middle name.” he smiled tentatively.

 

“You have an idea?” She asked curiously.

 

Jamos dithered. “Well, we know someone with this name but it wouldn't really be after him. I just kind of like the sound of it.”

 

“What?” She laughed. “Hugo?”

 

“What? No!” He grinned paused a moment longer and then with a sigh suggested, “What do you think about… Kason Dane?”

 

Shara let that sink in and then gave him an honest smile. “I love it!”

 

Jamos placed both his hands on her belly and then bent down to speak directly to the bump. “What do you think, Son?”

 

It was that single word that brought tears to her eyes again. They had a healthy boy growing inside her. 

 

“My boy.” Jamos whispered and then, “Woah! What was that?” He grinned when her belly seemed to jump in response. 

 

Shara laid her hands over her husband's as her belly jumped again and again every few seconds. “I think Mr Kason Dane Blackwell has the hiccups.”

 

…

 

Shara and Kason both continued to progress with no complications but Niamh still advised that as she was beginning her third trimester it would be better to stay close to the Hold. Jamos agreed. They had already brought in several good catches and the weather was just starting to turn cooler. 

 

Then they got the comm. A withdrawal of credits had been taken from the Bralykburn account and it hadn't been done from Braylk Keep. It certainly looked like Hugo had broken his house arrest. 

 

“Marlon and I have to go check this out. We'll be back soon I promise.” Jamos tried to calm her worries. “It's probably just somebody pirating from the pirates, aye? Wouldn't that be something?” 

 

“Aye,” Shara agreed. But he was worried, too. She could tell, and she wondered what sort of world they were bringing their son into where they always had to be on guard from some sort of attack.

 

Lana put an arm around her friend’s shoulder as they watched the  _ Polaris _ pull out of the harbor. “They’ll be fine.”

 

“Now I know how you felt when they went out after Hugo the last time.” Shara rubbed her belly. Of course Lana hadn’t been quite so far along with Thias then, this still felt like an echo of the previous event. They were even closing the gates behind the receding ship. 

 

It was only a precaution, they said. They had no other information to indict the Bralykburns other than this trail of credits. There were no deaths this time, no children maimed and no threats that anything like that was coming. 

 

“Come on.” Lana drew Shara away from the dock. “There are vegetables to harvest in the greenhouse and then we can make something tasty with them.” 

 

Shara appreciated her friend trying to get her mind off the matter. “I suppose we can make up a few pies and freeze them.” She sighed. “They’ll keep till the boys get back and we can bake them then.” 

 

Her hand went to her belly as they walked along. The muscles tightened but there was no pain. Niamh had told her that it wasn’t too early for her to start having a few practice contractions. It was just getting her body ready. It would make things easier when it came time for the real thing. They didn’t hurt but sometimes they took her breath away. 

 

She stopped in her tracks for a moment and waited for it to pass. 

 

“Are you feeling alright?” Lana looked back from a few steps ahead and asked her. 

 

Kason rolled over and got the hiccups again. Shara smiled. “Oh aye. He’s just asking me when daddy will be home.” It was always reassuring to feel her son move around and kick, to know he was healthy and growing. 

 

“We can go right back to the Hold if it’s too tiring.” Lana suggested. 

 

“I’ll let you know. Let’s get done what we can while Maris is watching Dalla and Thias.” 

 

Lana smiled. “Good point.” 

 

…

 

It was a good two days sailing to reach Bralyk Keep and in all that time Marlon and Jamos heard nothing else that led them to believe that Hugo Bralykburn had left his home harbor or that he was planning to do so either to attack Blackhold as he had tried before or for any other purpose. There was still that nagging record of the bank credits however and they had to see this through to the end. 

 

Jamos would have commed home hourly if Marlon hadn’t convinced him that he was only drawing Shara away from whatever she was doing to keep her mind off things. If there was a problem Shara would surely comm them, or Lana if Shara wasn’t able. But what if something happened and Shara wasn’t able to comm and Lana had to be with her? 

 

It got to the point where Jamos really didn’t care if Hugo Bralykburn sailed around taking money out of every bank on the planet. He just wanted to get home. Marlon shook his head and let the man comm his pregnant wife.

 

“ _ Aye. everything’s fine _ .” She assured him her image rubbing her belly. “ _ How are you doing? _ ” He saw the worry in her eyes. 

 

“Us? Ah well, the cabin’s awfully quiet without you to share it with me.” He tried to joke but she could tell he missed her. “We should reach the Keep tomorrow morning, get this all straightened out and then we’ll be back in no time and you’ll have to deal with me hovering over you every second.” 

 

“ _ I’ll be looking forward to it. _ ” Shara smiled, her eyes sprang open wider and she gave a little jump. “ _ And so is Kason _ .”

 

“Take care of my boy. Tell him Daddy will be home soon. And take care of yourself. Don’t over do it.” 

 

She nodded agreement. “ _ And you take care of yourself. We want you back in one piece. I love you, Jamos _ .”

 

“Love, you.”

 

…

 

The morning started out the same as any other. Portia got Shara up out of bed for her morning ‘fresher run outside. Not that Shara had to run. Portia could be let out, do her business and came dutifully back inside at her mistress’s call. The cog had been more protective of Shara lately, staying close and always sniffing for anything out of the ordinary. 

 

Shara didn’t know how much the norcog to sense, maybe it was just the animal’s natural watchfulness. Or maybe it was the fact that Portia was getting to be about the age that she could carry a litter of her own. 

 

“Do you want to be a momma too, Porsh?” Shara ruffled her ears. “I think you’re going to have your paws full being a big sister to Kason.”

 

Portia barked. 

 

“Good morning, Aunt Shara. Morning, Portia.” Dalla met them coming down the hallway. 

 

Portia licked the little girl’s face and Dalla giggled. 

 

Shara smiled. “Is your momma getting Thias up?” 

 

“Aye, but I was ready for breakfast.” 

 

“Me too.” Her aunt agreed. “And Kason too.”

 

Dalla giggled again and reached up to touch Shara’s stomach. She had been so little when Lana was pregnant with Thias but she was enjoying this wait for her new cousin as much as any of them. “If you drink Jogan juice do you fink ‘e’ll get pickups again?”

 

“He might. He gets them a lot, doesn’t he?” But it wasn’t hiccups that she felt just then another of the painless contractions that she had been experiencing off and on for weeks now tightened her belly. 

 

She must have made a face because Lana noticed something as she hurried down the hallway with Thias on her hip. The little escape artist was perfectly capable of walking on his own but she often had to pick him up and carry him to another room just to keep him from getting into trouble. Still Lana’s focus left her son who was safely in her arms and went to the pregnant woman before her. “Are you alright?”

 

“It’s nothing, really.” Shara shook her head. And it wasn’t, the tightness was already easing away. 

 

“You’re sure?” Lana wouldn’t let it go. 

 

Shara sighed. “Aye, nothing more than what Niamh said was perfectly normal.”

 

As the day progressed however, more of the painless contractions then she had ever experienced before seemed to stop her in her tracks and cause her to catch her breath. And then a simple trip to the refresher had her calling out in a panic, “Lana!”

 

“What is it?” The other woman came running. 

 

“Th-there was blood! Not a lot, I don’t think but… but I’m bleeding!”

 

“Okay! Okay, it’s going to be okay.” Lana frantically tried to remember everything she had ever heard the midwife say. “Just umm… lay down, on your left side. I’m comming Niamh right now. Everything is going to be okay.” 

 

…

 

Jamos paced the great hall of Bralyk Keep. They were getting nowhere. 

 

“And I told you I haven’t been off this rock since the last time you whelps came to call,” Hugo insisted. “If somebody’s been gettin’ into my credits that’s my problem and I don’t see where as it warrants this kind of investigation!”

 

“Papa, what’s wrong?” The little girl, not so little as the last time Marlon had seen her on the holo with Glover after the storm, came down the stairs and went to her father’s side. She reminded Marlon of the daughter he had waiting for him back at home and Jamos of the child who would soon call him Daddy. 

 

“Nothin’, Talia.” Hugo wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head in what seemed a very unBralykburn gesture. “You go on back up stairs. These men will be leavin’ us be soon enough.” 

 

She wouldn’t be cowed so easily. She looked as tough as her father and gave the Blackwell brothers a hard look. “My Papa didn’t do anything wrong,” She told them. “He’s been right here the whole time.” 

 

Jamos rolled his eyes, wondering if these pirates were all the same. His view of her as an inocent little child was thrown to the wind and he spouted sarcastically, “What? Was it you who took those credits out of the account when you were on your last voyage?”

 

Talia Bralykburn was silent for a moment. Then she looked up at her father guiltily and back at his interrogators. “Aye.”

 

“Talia? What do you need credits for?” Hugo appeared as shocked as any of them. 

 

The little girl, she looked much younger now under her father’s gaze, finally gave up the gig. “I wanted to get you a birthday present, Papa.”

 

Again Jamos rolled his eyes heavenward but before he could utter a response his comm chimed and he didn’t hesitate to answer it. It was Lana looking worried and rubbing her hands in agitation. “ _ Jamos, it’s Shara. Now, now don’t worry. Niamh says everything is fine. She’s had some early labor symptoms _ .”

 

“Don’t worry?” How in Dxun was he not supposed to worry? “Is she alright? Is Kason? Is she having him now?”

 

Hugo let out a bark of a laugh. “You left your pregnant wife to come here and bother me about a fistful of credits?”

 

“Shut him up!” Jamos was shaking with fear and anger. “Or I swear I’ll…” 

 

“ _ Jamos _ !” Lana’s voice brought his attention back to the comm. “ _ Shara is fine and Kason is fine. It wasn’t actual labor. I’ll spare you the details for now _ .” Her image shot a look in the direction of the lord of the Keep who she couldn’t see in the frame of the holo but whose voice she had heard plainly. “ _ I’ll have her comm you when Niamh’s got her settled _ .” 

 

Jamos carried the comm unit out into the corridor. “Well, what’s Niamh doing? She stopped the labor? She gave her some kind of meds?” 

 

“ _ None of that was necessary. As I said, it wasn’t actually labor and she seems to have stopped the contractions naturally. Niamh’s going to keep her on a monitor overnight and most likely she’ll be off her feet for a while but probably won’t need complete bed rest _ .” 

 

“Whatever she needs!” He insisted. 

 

Lana’s voice softened. “ _ She needs you. Come home _ .”

 

“That won’t be a problem.” He seethed. “This has all been a kriffing waste of time. Salt gods, I should have been there with her!” 

 

“ _ She doesn’t blame you. She just misses you _ .” Lana looked back over her shoulder. 

 

“Aye.” Jamos ran a hand over his beard. “Tell her I love her, and I’m on my way, and I’ll give her a comm as soon as we’re back on the ship.”

 

…

 

“You’re alright. Kase is alright.” It wasn’t a question. Jamos was trying to convince himself. He stood with his hands clenched on the edge of the Polaris’s comm table.

 

“We’re fine.” Shara reclined in their bed, her back propped up with pillows. Her expression was guilty and worn out after the fear and stress and then relief of Niamh’s assessment. “I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss. It turned out to be nothing.”

 

“It wasn’t nothing.” The words came out fiercer than he meant them to. “I mean, you thought something was wrong and you did the right thing. You called for help. That’s…” Jamos looked away and then back into the image of her eyes projected before him. “You didn’t take any chances. Salt gods I’m so glad, Shar. What if it was something and you’d kept quiet? You did the right thing.” He repeated. 

 

She was afraid he was blaming himself for not being there with her at the time but she had a feeling that his presence would have stressed her out even more. His worry and his hovering would have forced Niamh to send him out of the room anyway. She had a feeling that he was going to be intolerable when he got back. “Niamh said I just need to take it easy for a while. I need to keep my feet up for a couple weeks but I can get myself to the ‘fresher and the kitchen and around the Hold…” 

 

“Lana said bedrest.” He insisted. 

 

“Modified bedrest.” Shara corrected. “I can’t go for a run or a swim or help with the rest of the harvest.” She frowned, disappointed at that. “Walking to the living room and putting my feet up when I get there is fine.” 

 

“Aye.” He bit his lip wanting to say more. He wanted to order her to stay in bed and they would bring her anything she needed. He wanted someone to be at her side to make sure she was alright even for visits to the ‘fresher. He sighed.

 

“I got to see him again.” She told him with a smile that brought him right out of his funk. “Niamh wanted to check that Kason was still doing alright. And…” she beamed. “He’s still beautiful.” 

 

“Did you get a recording of the sonogram?” he asked, excitedly. 

 

Shara nodded. “Even when I was scared that something might be wrong, I could still feel him moving. It was like he was trying to reassure me. He got the hiccups again while I was on the monitor and it was so loud. He always gets upset when he gets them so he was kicking and swimming around and…” 

 

“What’s he doing now?” The tension in Jamos’s face had relaxed and he just looked at her in wonder. 

 

“He’s quiet now, sleeping I think after so much activity.” She rubbed her belly fondly and smiled. “Niamh said I should count his movements every hour.” 

 

“I can help with that.” Jamos announced. 

 

Shara laughed and his confidence and desire to do his part. “Aye, you can.” Then she sobered some, still smiling. “As soon as you get home.” 

 

“We’re piling on all sail and I’ll get out and row myself if I have to.” 

 

“So everything’s settled with the Bralykburns?” she asked. 

 

He groaned, thinking of Hugo calling him out about being away from his pregnant wife. “It was the kid, if you can believe it. His little girl withdrew the credits because she wanted to get him a birthday present.”

 

Shara couldn’t help it, she smiled. “That’s sweet.” 

 

“Aye. Sweet. And she made us sail halfway across the planet to check up on it.” He hissed sarcastically.

 

“Well, I’m sure your son will never do anything so foolish.” She teased. 

 

“He’s already managed to scare the Dxun out of me and he’s not even been born yet. Thankfully.” His throat tightened as he thought that that could have been the case. His son might have been born early while he was on a wild bantha chase. Could a baby that early survive? What would he have done if they’d lost him? Or lost both of them? He swallowed thickly. “Thankfully he’s not been born yet. He’s gonna stay put right where he is for as long as he needs to.” 

 

“Niamh said there are some things we can do to make sure he’s ready if he does want to come early. There’s a test I can take to see if his lungs are developed enough. And I can have a series of steroid hypos if they’re not.” That idea still worried her, too, and again Shara rubbed her belly and Kason gave her a reassuring filp. “She says there’s every chance that I’ll still go to full term though. That’s the plan.” She nodded trying to be confident in the execution and outcome of that plan. “We’ve just got to get him to 37weeks…” 

 

…

 

Thirty-seven weeks came and went. Shara felt big as a fambaa and twice as ornery. One of the only things that fit her now was the awful fruit shirt that Jamos had gotten for her for her first salt and light celebration. She wore it now almost as a jibe at him as if to say, ‘this is all your fault’. 

 

After so much worry that Kason would come early it seemed almost an insult, an evil trick that the galaxy was playing on her that she might even go past her due date. She’d started researching ways that she might hurry labor along. Some of them were definitely more attractive than others. Drinking an oil that induced the loosening of the bowels in the hopes of triggering contractions? She wasn’t even about to try that. But she drank a special tea that was supposed to help and she didn’t mind a little spicy food, except when it gave her heartburn. 

 

Finally Niamh gave her the option of giving Kason Dane Blackwell an eviction notice. If he hadn’t come by thirty-eight weeks they were going to set a date to induce labor. It felt a bit odd picking his birthday and walking into the midwife’s practice smiling and pain free. After that things went remarkably fast. Shara was sure she should never confess to another mother who had had to deal with a forty-eight standard hour labor, that she had walked in, been connected to the IV and monitors and three short hours later held her son in her arms. 

 

It was a bit of a blur. She and Jamos had packed a bag with card games and holos and music disks to pass the time but they hadn’t needed any of that. They were both so excited to meet this little boy. 

 

And they weren’t the only ones. Shara was told later that Maris had been running in and out of the waiting room getting updates all morning. Maris would tell Ness and then Ness would pass the information on to the entire crew of the Polaris who had been pacing the deck or knocking back drinks at the pub. 

 

If Shara hadn’t been so enamored with the child in her arms she might have heard them celebrating from her room in the birthing center. “Hello, Kason.” She whispered. 

 

“He’s beautiful.” Jamos was gazing at his son as well. He stroked the baby’s face and then grinned at his wife. “And you! You were amazing!” 

 

Lana and Marlon came in not long after that and gushed over their nephew. 

 

“He’s perfect! Oh, Marl, do you remember when Thias was this little?” Lana leapt at the chance to hold the new baby.

 

“Thinking about maybe having another one?” Marlon grinned teasingly. 

 

“I don’t know about having three in diapers at the same time in the Hold.” Lana cut that short. 

 

Marlon hugged her from behind and looked over her shoulder at baby Kason. “What, you don’t think we could have Thias trained to use the ‘fresher on his own in the next nine months?” 

 

“If you’d like to try to train him. I probably wouldn’t feel up to it if I were in the condition that would be required for that to be an issue.” 

 

“Give me that little sailor,” Marlon demanded his turn holding his nephew and Lana passed him on. The big strong lord of the north was just as susceptible as the rest of them to be turned into goo with the precious infant in his arms. He cooed and jabbered at the newborn. 

 

“Did Niamh say if Dalla is allowed to come in and see him?” Lana asked. “She’s been asking all morning. I told her that she’d need to be very still and gentle.”

 

“I don’t remember her saying anything about keeping Dalla and Thias out.” Shara looked to her husband. 

 

Jamos shrugged. He had been a bit deaf and blind to anything but his son since his arrival. 

 

“Go ahead and get her.” Shara smiled. “Thias probably doesn’t care one way or the other anyway, but Dalla will be alright, for a little while. Oh but she should probably wash her hands.”

 

Lana went to get her daughter and Marlon handed the baby back to his father. Then he patted his brother on the shoulder. “You really brought in the catch of the day with this one little brother!”

 

“I had nothing to do with it.” Shara teased from the bed. 

 

Dalla looked around the room curiously. She washed her hands as she was told and then sat back in the visitor's chair and held out her arms. “Can I hold him, please?” 

 

“You’ve got to be really careful, Chirn Bait.” Jamos knelt down next to the chair. 

 

Shara sat up a little straighter in the bed to see what was happening but she needn’t have worried. Her husband was the perfect father already.

 

“Support his head. That’s right. What do you think? Isn’t he something?” 

 

“Hi, Kason. I’m your cousin Dalla,” she said softly. 

 

Shara needn’t have worried about having a girl first. Her niece was going to be a great helper.


	55. I'll See You On The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as the rebels would like to have more time to hang out with the northerners, the droid army is on its way. It’s time to make some preparations and for a few friends to say their goodbyes for the battle.

“General Tandin?”

 

Tandin turns around to see the newcomers to the cave. “Lord Blackwell, Dalla. How can I --oof!”

 

In the blink of an eye Marlon crushes him in a bear hug. Tandin goes stiff as a board, not knowing what to do with the sudden contact. He looks at Dalla over Marlon’s shoulder and she shrugs.

 

“Thank you,” Marlon says. “General, I can't say this enough.  _ Thank you.” _

 

“I was glad to,” Tandin says awkwardly. 

 

“Glad to doesn't cover it. You saved my daughter,” Marlon releases him. “Anything you want, it's yours. Just name it.”

 

Tandin takes a step back, still ruffled from the sudden hug. “My lord, there’s no need. I did what I did to help my kin when they needed me.”

 

“And you were going to lay down your life to do it.” Marlon lowers his voice. “General, after my wife died, Dalla and her brothers...they’re my whole universe. If something had happened to them I don't know what I would have done. You didn't just save Dalla, you saved me. Please, let me give you something for my appreciation.”

 

Tandin sputters and Dalla breaks in with a smile. “General, if you don't accept it we’ll just make a transfer into your account.”

 

“You’re merciless.” He bows his head. “I don't deserve it, but I accept your generosity. Thank you, Lord Blackwell.”

 

“Thank  _ you.”  _ For a minute it looks like Marlon’s going to hug him again but he merely claps Tandin on the back. “Have you any idea of what you’d like?”

 

“May I have a while to think on it?”

 

“Aye. Just don't think of putting it off forever.” He winks. “Remember, just name it and it's yours.”

 

“I will,” Tandin sighs. “I should go to check on my men.”

 

“As should we,” Marlon shakes his head. “Sometimes I don't know whether our men are more interested in fighting the Separatists, or each other.”

 

“And I need to talk to Steela,” Dalla says. All of them figured out that Steela works best with the lordlings her own age. 

 

“Go and do that. Salt gods know we’re not going anywhere without her.” 

 

They split up and Dalla heads toward the cave they’ve unofficially dubbed command central. Ten to one Steela’s there trying to figure out what to do with the navy and the Beast Riders, maybe with Lux and Ahsoka and maybe not. Saw’s almost certainly with the beasts or the soldiers. 

 

Steela turns from the holotable when she hears her coming. “So, did Tandin take the dough?” 

 

“Only as an alternative to finding a sudden, large deposit in his account. Where are Lux and Ahsoka?” 

 

Steela brightens at Lux’s name. “I sent them back into the city to deliver a message. They should be back soon with that and a status update.” 

 

“Great. And Saw’s outside I assume?”

 

“Yeah. Why do you ask? Hoping to get in a few more good lines before the battle begins?”

 

“Of course I am. You think I’m going to let him get the last word?”

 

“I don't know if I want to hear the end of that. I almost had to censor you two.”

 

“Oh, you did not,” Dalla scoffs. “Come on Steela, it was just banter.”

 

“Oh, yeah I did. What was that, all the stuff about your handsome husband and his handsome biceps?”

 

“Whatever Saw meant when he informed me he was sleeping on the left side of the bed.”

 

“Dalla. You sure you two aren't married?”

 

“Stop it,” Dalla playfully smacks Steela on the arm. 

 

“It's not me you’d have to worry about! It's Hutch. He’ll relay that kitchen story quick as anything.”

 

“And then Saw and I will light him up.” She comes up to the holotable. “Jokes aside, what are we looking at here?”

 

“We might be able to draw the droid army out of the city, but that’s not going to take care of the Rash bannermen. I seriously doubt we can take them down diplomatically.” 

 

“So we have to siege the city.”

 

“Yeah, we have to siege the city. That’s probably going to be a job for the navy, considering you can access the city via the river.” 

 

“Walls are going to be a complication. We’ll have to breach a gate if we’re going to get inside. Are all his bannermen holed up in the city?”

 

“Well they’re definitely not in the jungle and I can’t think of anywhere else. Do you have the bodies to do that?” 

 

“Aye, since we have the entire navy. We can take their bannermen if you handle the droid army.” 

 

A weight seems to fall from Steela’s shoulders. “That’s just what I needed to hear.” 

 

Footsteps echo in the mouth of the cave and Saw enters, looking downright shaken. “Who spit in your dad’s cereal?” he asks Dalla. “I’m just sitting around, minding my own business when he pops up behind me and says ‘Listen to me, young man. If anything happens to my daughter I have a blaster rifle and there’s a lot of water between here and Blackhold. I don’t think anyone would find you.’” 

 

Steela bursts out laughing. 

 

“It’s not funny, Steela!” 

 

“After what you two were saying last night I’m shocked he didn’t blast you right then and there!” She laughs. “You guys are dead. Dead!” 

 

“Wait, ‘you guys’? Why am I dead?” Dalla asks. 

 

Steela places a hand on her shoulder. “Because if you do anything to him, I’m going to kill you.” 

 

Dalla throws up her hands. “I feel so loved right now. Great in-laws I’ve got.” 

 

“Hey, I’m better than your original option.” 

 

“Ain’t that the truth. And as for you, my loving husband, why are you not defending your wife?” 

 

“Me?” Saw points to himself. “I don’t want to get killed by my sister, that’s why.” 

 

They laugh and Saw gestures to the mouth. “Scouts spotted Lux and Ahsoka on their way back. Hero says they look pretty happy.” 

 

“We should see what they’re so happy about,” Steela says.  

 

“Maybe it’s Rash’s immediate surrender,” Saw jokes. 

 

Dalla elbows him. “If it is I might actually marry you, Saw.” 

 

“Didn’t we just go over this? We’re already married, as long as your dad doesn’t kill me.” 

 

Steela melodramatically sticks her fingers in her ears. “You two are impossible!” she yells as she walks ahead of them. 

 

“We try to be!” 

 

“That’s why we make such a great couple!” As soon as Steela gets a good distance away Dalla whispers to Saw: “You know she’s going to get her revenge as soon as Lux gets back?” 

 

“Yeah, I do. Gods help us. And that’s why I’m gonna go block the lovebirds.” He runs ahead and overtakes Steela to go stand with Tandin and Marlon. 

 

Lux and Ahsoka’s ruping circles over the Nest once before coming to a rest. Lux slides off its back followed by Ahsoka and announces “The people are turning against the droids! There’s rioting in the streets now.” 

 

“That’s a beautiful thing,” Saw grins and claps him on the back. 

 

Steela approaches from her position near Princess. “We need to keep the fighting to the outskirts of the city.” 

 

Lux nods agreement. “Fewer structures, and people.” 

 

“But fewer clankers. Their main force is in Iziz,” Saw argues. “We should join the fight down there and take it straight to King Rash.”

 

“We all want victory, but not at the cost of innocent lives!” Steela protests. “If we fight door to door, no one is safe.” 

 

Saw waves his hands in frustration. “This is  _ war,  _ Steela! You’re sending the northern navy in there anyway.” 

 

“And we won’t harm anyone who bends the knee.” Marlon announces, making space for Dalla to stand beside him. “We’re enough to take the city, and fewer fighters means fewer chances for someone to forsake honor once the battle’s over.” 

 

“And we can’t afford to have any rogues after Rash’s almost-smear campaign.” Steela glares at him. “We got out of that one by the skin of our teeth; we’re not going to get that lucky again.” 

 

“She’s right,” Dendup says, approaching with his bodyguards. 

 

“I agree.” Ahsoka enters their circle. “The more you draw the droids from the city to the Highlands, the safer the people will be.” 

 

Marlon directs his attention to Dalla. “Smear campaign. Explain.” 

 

She and Steela look at each other and wince. 

 

“I don’t see him,” she says. 

 

“I think it should be fine to tell him.” 

 

Marlon crosses his arms. “Dalla, what did you do?” he demands. 

 

“When Steela and I found out the Bralykburns were breaking the embargo, we spied on them,” Dalla admits. “We saw fighting men on deck, figured out they were going to try and impersonate us to give us a bad name. So Steela commed him --” she glosses over the part most likely to get her in trouble. “And I had to intervene for a second and we worked together but basically, we ended up roasting Hugo Bralykburn.” 

 

Silence. 

 

“You did what?” Dendup gapes. 

 

“I’m pretty sure he’s still afraid of us,” Steela admits. “I caught him trying to call one of my girls a whore and asked him if there was a problem. He almost jumped out of his skin.”

 

“You roasted Hugo Bralykburn,” Marlon echoes. 

 

“Steela did all the work. I was just the cheerleader.”   _ Please Father, don’t kill me.  _

 

Dendup stops it before Marlon can muster another word. “That’s...incredible.” 

 

Tandin bows his head in an attempt to change the subject. “My men await your command, my lord.” 

 

“I believe there’s a new contender,” Dendup says and turns his gaze to Steela. “You will lead our forces, including the royal army. Steela is now the commanding general!”

 

Steela freezes, the mirror image of herself when Dalla called her the Lady of House Gerrera. 

 

“A great choice,” Ahsoka says, a little uncomfortable. As much as she trusts Steela, Dalla has to admit she sort of is too. 

 

Lux is starstruck. Dalla bets she could throw him in the river and he’d still come up smiling.

 

Tandin just nods, hiding just how unhappy he must be at essentially being fired in front of everyone.  _ If anyone doesn’t deserve that, he doesn’t.  _ “As you wish, my lord.” 

 

Dendup goes back to Steela. “You and your rebels renewed my faith in myself. Now I’m putting my faith in you.” 

 

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Steela says with a barely level voice. She takes a half second to compose herself and then calls out “Let’s ride!” 

 

Lux takes a step forward like he wants to say something, but he misses Steela entirely. He covers by running his hand through his hair and then whistling to his ruping. 

 

Marlon takes a step away from the reptavian when it hisses at him and Dalla. “Some things never change over thousands of years,” he mutters.  

 

“We found the best way to get your people on board is to just run for it,” Saw says in an obvious attempt to get on Marlon’s good side. Marlon just glares at him. 

 

“It won’t be for very long, Lord Marlon,” Steela says and turns from her work saddling Princess. “Just a quick circle around and we’ll send Dalla off once we’re done. Princess and I didn’t kill her last time.” 

 

Marlon seems to relax immensely. “I’ll prepare the navy,” he says and takes his leave. 

 

Dalla readies herself to run. “Are you ready to go?” 

 

Steela has her eyes, twinkling with an idea, focused on something else. “Hold on a second, Dalla,” she says and strides over to Lux and Ahsoka’s ruping. 

 

She waits until Ahsoka’s boosted herself up and into the saddle, and then without warning grabs Lux’s head and kisses him. 

 

His shock still hasn’t faded when she pulls back and whispers “Just in case.” 

 

Before he can react at all, Steela grabs Dalla’s hand and yanks her onto Princess. 

 

Dalla smiles at her . “Congratulations, General Gerrera.”

 

“I have too many titles,” Steela mumbles and spurs Princess to take off. “First it's Lady, now it's General.”

 

“C’mon, they sort of go together: General Steela Bonteri, the Lady of --.”

 

Steela punches her in the shoulder. “Lady Gerrera, my brother has officially corrupted you.”

 

Dalla rubs her chin in mock deep thought. “You know, the way politics and inheritance law stack up he might have to take my name.”

 

_ “Sawyer Drokko Blackwell!  _ Try running that by him, sister. His face will be priceless.”

 

“In all seriousness, I'm happy for you.” She pats Steela on the back. “If any of us deserve to kiss someone we love, it's you.”

 

“Seize the day,” Steela agrees and looks down. “Look, I think your uncle’s found a new love too.” 

 

Below them, Jamos is stroking a dalgos’ snout with no protests from the beast. 

 

“See?” He taunts a few of the others. “The southern beastie likes me!” 

 

“You must be feeding it sucrose,” Ephraim Harkon accuses. 

 

“I resent that,” Jamos fires back and hoists himself into the saddle. “See, no sucrose. The beastie -- hey!” The dalgos’ nostrils flare, immediately sensing that Jamos doesn’t know what he’s doing, and tries to buck him off. 

 

Ephraim doubles over laughing and Jamos slides off just in time. “Beastie, we were friends!” he cries. 

 

Ephraim points and laughs. “No, it was your wife who was its friend. Nice scarf you have wrapped around your arm there. Is that Shara’s?” 

 

Steela turns to Dalla and at the same time they say “Should have kept the fruit shirt!” 

 

Suddenly the hair stands up on the back of their necks and Dalla can almost hear Dono hissing  _ under no circumstances are you to wear that monstrosity  _ into her ear. 

 

_ It's burnt to a crisp, Ghost of Dono, _ she thinks. 

 

Steela directs Princess to the ground and they come down near the riverbank where the northerners are loading the boats

 

“You’re all ready to siege the city,” she comments, sliding out of the saddle.

 

“We’ve had plenty of practice,” Dalla follows her out of the saddle and immediately puts some distance between herself and Princess. “Sailing is a good chunk of water-based siege, and between house squabbles and the Bralykburns we got good at the other chunk too.” 

 

Ahsoka and Lux jog up to them, Saw close on their heels. 

 

“You all have enough supplies: blaster batteries, ammunition for cannons?” the Jedi asks. 

 

Dalla nods. “I don’t recall my father saying anything different and he did mention having weapons. Anyway I think most of the fighting is going to be close-quarters if you manage to draw out the droid army.” 

 

“Which we will.” Lux says. “We have the king and the Beast Riders; Rash will be spread too thin if he keeps droids in Iziz and he knows it. He’ll send the droids after us because King Dendup’s a higher-value target. After what happened on the steps, Dalla isn’t worth much to him.” 

 

“Marrying a terrorist’s traitor widow would be political suicide,” she agrees. 

 

“But unless the gods suddenly struck you sterile then you’re still worth something. Stay sharp.”

 

“I will. Thanks, guys.” She glances over to the rowboat beached on the riverbank. “I guess this is goodbye for now.” 

 

“I guess it is.” Saw holds out his arms with a teasing grin. “It may be bad luck to kiss a sailor, but I think it’s good luck to hug one.” 

 

“Giving them more gossip fodder, are we?” She opens her arms in kind and hugs him. “Good luck, Saw. And I’m sorry for your poor luck before.” 

 

“I got a wife out of the deal. We can call it even,” he jokes. “But seriously, I hope this gets us some good luck. Be safe.”

 

“You too.”

 

Lux sighs and copies Saw’s gesture. “And I’m the one who’s bailing you two out of the gossip holos. Again.” 

 

“Aye, again,” she agrees and hugs him. “And thank you for all of it. Good luck, Lux.” 

 

“My luck got me through Carlaac. I don’t see any reason for it to run out now.” 

 

“It better not.” Ahsoka shakes her head. “If your luck runs out we’re all sunk.”

 

Dalla rolls her eyes at the comment. “We would have all been sunk if it wasn't for you, Ahsoka. Thanks for getting involved.” 

 

“My master and I can never stay otherwise for long.” She winks. “Solid advice is but a comm away.”

 

“And I’ll be in contact, whether it's with you or Steela. Probably both of you, considering -- where’s Steela?” Out of everyone, she wants to say goodbye to Steela the most. 

 

“Right here.”

 

Steela’s pulled the rowboat knee-deep into the water. 

 

“Someone has to row this thing back to shore for the others, and it might as well be me,” she says and prepares to step into the boat. “Anyway, you always said you’d get me in one of these.” 

Dalla lunges forward. “Steela, don’t put your foot there!” 

 

Too late. The boat slips out from under Steela’s feet and she drops into the water, barely catching herself on her arm and plunging her side and shoulder under. Immediately she gets back to her feet and tries to wipe off the water droplets. 

 

Dalla wades in after her and holds the rowboat for her to get in. “Looks like rowboats hate you.” 

 

“Something’s gotta give.” Steela settles into the boat. “Alright, provided I don’t capsize us let’s head out.” 

 

…

 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright rowing back alone?” Dalla asks. 

 

“It’s not that far and I’m pretty strong. I wrestle dalgos.” 

 

Aunt Shara did manage to row herself all the way from Iziz to Blackhold, so Dalla doesn’t doubt it. “That’s a lot harder than rowing.” 

 

“It helps when the beasts like you,” she admits. “It’s definitely not as hard as wrangling people.” 

 

“You’re a wizard at managing people.” She pauses between strokes. “You’re one of the best leaders I’ve ever seen. And I see a lot.” 

 

“Thank you.” Dalla’s rowed three more times before Steela speaks again, in almost a whisper. “It’s different, being a leader and being a Lady. The first one you just have to think about you and yours, the second you need to consider everyone else. I’ve only been doing a Lady’s work for a few days and still, it’s overwhelming. Sometimes I’m not sure I can do it.” 

 

Dalla stops rowing. They’re so close to her ship the crew’s probably staring at her in confusion, but she needs privacy for just a minute longer. 

 

“You can do it,” she asserts. “I believe in you, King Dendup believes in you, and you have been in Lady Boot Camp from the second you talked Saw into letting me join you. You got everyone here to follow you. You got Hugo Bralykburn to  _ kneel.  _ You saved a king! You are going to be a great Lady. You already are. Now’s your time to go show everyone.” 

 

Steela beams. “Well, I had a very good role model.”

 

“I taught you nothing,” Dalla scoffs.

 

“You taught me Lords and Ladies are more than banners and fancy words. You’re brave, Dalla. And you hold onto your honor. There’s no one else I’d rather have mint me a Lady on the comm.”

 

“And there’s no one else I’d rather mint a Lady on the comm.” She resumes rowing and pulls up beside  _ Maiden’s Heel.  _ Never in her life has she been happier to see her ship.

 

One of the sailors looks over the rail to get a better look at the rowboat. “Captain’s on the port side!” She shouts over her shoulder. 

 

“Don’t bother winching us; just drop the rope ladder!” Dalla shouts back. 

 

“Aye, Captain!”

 

“So this is goodbye,” Steela says, the side of her mouth threatening to twitch. “I’d hug you, but I would get you all wet.”

 

“Get me wet.” Dalla hugs her tight. 

 

“Give ‘em hell.” Steela squeezes her back. After Dono and Miranda and the close call at the execution, neither one really wants to let the other go.

 

“I will,” Dalla pulls back. “And you’re going to show them that you are a drexl. And drexls are going to rule the world once more.” 

 

“Maybe they will.” The rope ladder smacking against the side of the ship interrupts her. “Maybe the deep will help wash away the ruins of what came before.”

 

“It will,” Dalla promises. “On my honor, it will.”

 

They hug one last time and then Dalla hoists herself into the ladder and climbs to the top. When she reaches the rail two of her crewmen offer their arms to swing her over the rail and on deck. 

 

“Captain,” her first mate says, a smile on his face. “It's good to see you again. We were worried about you for a bit.”

 

“Jus’ for a bit,” the deckhand assures her. 

 

“I’m glad it was short-lived too,” she nods to the first mate. “Thank you for sailing her down, One-Eye.”

 

One-Eye nods his acceptance and Dalla turns her attention back over the rail to Steela in the rowboat. “Do you have it?”

 

“I’m good now!” Steela assures her and rows a strong, steady stroke to prove it. “I’ll see you on the other side!”

 

“I’ll buy you a drink when we do!”

 

Steela rows a few more times, her hands too busy to wave goodbye. Dalla turns back to her crew.

 

“Set sails once the rowboats clear out,” she orders. “We’re going to Iziz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may remember a midshipman who lost an eye during Hugo’s pirate attack in Gen 1. One-Eye is indeed the same person from that chapter.


	56. Portrait of a Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to Iziz and another flashback. This one is a memory of the morning Shara Rash left her life behind and began her trip to the Northern Sea. The reasons she left may be clear to the reader but were not so plain to everyone, nor was the knowledge that she was truly gone when they first discovered her to be missing. ~ DK

_ Sanjay knew he shouldn't have enjoyed what happened last night as much as he had. And yet he woke that morning thinking of how it felt to have her struggling beneath him. He had only wanted to show her how much he still loved her even if she had been with Kira. She said she hadn't. He should have taken her word. She had never lied to him before.  _

 

_ Last night she had said she didn't want him. She had tried to shove him away. He wondered if it was the same thrill that the riders felt when they were taming their beasts, the hunt, the chase, the conquest. He remembered when she had finally submitted and stopped putting up a fight, the power he had felt and the excitement. He had broken her. He shouldn't have done it. And he never should have called her a whore.  _

 

_ He would make it up to her. He would get her something, maybe some earrings to match her necklace. He thought of the way the gems would look dripping from her earlobes, over her slender neck. And for now he would gently show her how sorry he was. He rolled over and reached for her in their bed. But she wasn't there.  _

 

_ He called out, “Shara?” But there was no answer. That in itself was not unexpected. She was probably just washing up in the refresher that adjoined their room.  _

 

_ The thought of her standing in the shower with the water sluicing down her naked body was enough to get him out of bed in a hurry. But he didn't hear the water running and when he reached it, the room was empty.  _

 

_ Alright, he frowned. So she had already gone down to breakfast. He glanced at the chrono on the night stand. Well that was understandable. He had slept late. Shara might even be out in the garden by now.  _

 

_ He took his time getting dressed and then walked down to the dining room for brunch. Sanjay’s father it seemed had also risen late and was only now breaking his fast.  _

 

_ “Good morning,” Sanjay greeted the patriarch, and asked directly. “Have you seen Shara?”  _

 

_ “I have not,” Ommin Rash replied. “However I haven’t been up for long. Doesn’t Shara often like to see the sun rise from the garden porch? Perhaps she brought out a book and lost herself in the story.” _

 

_ Sanjay nodded noncommittally and reached for a piece of fruit. He didn’t bite it however, just passing it from hand to hand, thinking.  _

 

_ “Is something wrong, Son?” his father asked, now distracted from the holonews he had been reading before.  _

 

_ “I er…” Sanjay took his seat and set the shura down on the table. “You might say that Shara and I had an…” what was it? Not an argument. “A misunderstanding last night. I had been trying to think of a way to make it up to her, to show her that we should forgive and forget. I was thinking of perhaps finding a coordinating piece of jewelry to go along with her necklace.” He looked hopefully at his father but he didn’t find any signs of encouragement.  _

 

_ Instead he was met with a frown. “And Shara has often enough occasion to wear her necklace that such a thing would come in useful?” Ommin asked delicately.  _

 

_ “Well… no.” Sanjay dithered and then had an idea. “What if I was to invent an occasion? I could get her out of the house, take her to dinner and… a theatrical event or a concert!”  _

 

_ Ommin nodded, concealing a smile. His son was on the right track now. He would only interject if he thought it was necessary _

 

_ “Or…” Sanjay picked up the fruit again and took a bite while letting the plan formulate in his mind. He swallowed before he continued. “Perhaps a longer trip is in order. I never took her on a honeymoon and our anniversary is coming up in a month.”  _

 

_ “True.” _

 

_ “Something off world!”  _

 

_ Ommin nearly choked on the swallow of tea he had just taken. “Sanjay are you certain. The only time you’ve been off Onderon you were terribly ill for the duration of the flight.” _

 

_ Sanjay waved off his father’s objection. “There are meds for that sort of thing.”  _ Or other methods of warding off the effects _. He thought to himself. _

 

_ “And there are healing waters on other worlds? Mineral springs that have the reputation of curing infertility?” Ommin prodded. _

 

_ “I had thought of that as well.” Sanjay nodded.  _

 

_ The older man reached out and patted his son’s hand. “I think getting Shara away from… everything for a while might be just the ticket.” _

  
  


… 

 

Sanjay remembered that conversation now as he watched the holo footage stream past. It had been over a year since his father’s death and Sanjay still missed the man powerfully. He missed Ommin’s advice and he missed having a presence other than his mother’s in the large estate. 

 

He had gone to visit the tomb alone just as he had promised himself that he would. And to his surprise there had been flowers arranged by the stone marker. 

 

“What is this?” he asked a passing acolyte. “Who sent these?”

 

The boy blinked at him as if unused to being spoken to by the public. “Wh-who sent…” he stuttered.

 

“Who sent these flowers?” Sanjay repeated. “Surely one of the priests took the order and placed them here per someone's instructions.” He was trying not to speak too harshly but still, to his greater annoyance, the boy cowered before him. 

 

“They were delivered anonymously, Young Man.” A voice came from behind him and Sanjay spun to see the priest coming to join them and the acolyte scurrying off to go about his duties. 

 

“But there must have been something, a note?” 

 

“I am sorry.” The priest reached out and touched the petals of one pale blue bloom. “The delivery droid only gave us instructions to place the arrangement before this marker. He was your father?” 

 

“Yes,” Sanjay himself couldn’t bring himself to touch the flowers. They reminded him too much of her. They were exactly the varieties that Shara had insisted be planted in her garden. She and father had spoken about them when they were delivered and she had carefully tended each new cutting. “Sh… He… he would have loved these.”

 

“Then you already have an idea who sent them?” The priest nodded knowingly. 

 

“Yes… yes, I…. Excuse me.” He ran home from the temple and activated the holo projector hoping for some mindless chatter in the quiet estate. But he was in for a shock. 

 

He wondered what his father would have to say about the most recent news to reach them from the far north. Shara had given birth to a son. It was a thing Sanjay had never been able to give her and from the look on her face in the images, he knew that if only he had, it would have been Sanjay that she was beaming at that way. 

 

In the images the new parents were bringing the child on board a ship for his first voyage. Terribly reckless thing to do, in Sanjay’s opinion. He actually reached out toward the projection as Shara walked up the rail-less gang plank with the bundle in her arms. But of course she was as stable on her feet as she had ever been standing on the back of a dalgos, racing around a show track. 

 

Sanjay listened as the holonews anchor told about the troubled pregnancy. There was a pre-term labor scare while the idiotic father was away on some voyage. “I would have never left your side, Shara.” He told her. And then the labor had to be induced with drugs. “No. I would have had you airlifted to a proper med center! I would never have left you to the mercy of those northern quacks!”

 

The commentator left off and the sound from the actual event picked up. The crew of the ship seemed to be singing some sort of sea shanty. Sanjay couldn’t understand it. It was in the old language. Shara had sung to him in the old language. How he wished that he could hear her voice now. 

 

His wish was granted with the sound of her laughter and a single teasingly offended word, “Lyrics!” 

 

The crew members laughed and Sanjay heard a few of them shout out that they would write a new version that was more appropriate for the first mate of the Captain’s Lady. Whatever that meant. Shara seemed happily satisfied.  

 

Then the older Blackwell brother, Marlon, seemed to be asking permission to hold his nephew. His nephew. Lana Flint’s nephew. He should have been Melaana’s nephew. Melaana wanted nieces and nephews. She had given up her wing of the house for the future nursery. That wing stood empty now…

 

“Unifras and all the gods of the Galaxy!” Sanjay exclaimed then. Marlon Blackwell was swinging the baby over the rail as if he were going to throw the child to the chirns. 

 

Jamos ran forward and retrieved his son. At least the man had that much sense. What could that… that… Poodoo be thinking, treating Shara’s child like that?

 

Shara’s child…

 

Not my child… 

 

She will never have my child.

 

Sanjay shut off the projector. His hopes and dreams were over. What did he have left to live for? He thought of his failed attempts to find a teacher to instruct him in art. There were plenty who were willing to take his credits but they all wanted to turn him into something he was not. Maybe mother had ordered them not to let him practice recreating images of Shara. 

 

Mother. Mother and her great plans. She arranged for him to meet other women. Oh yes. She paraded plenty of them before him, suitable candidates for the position of Lady of the house of Rash and possibly something more prestigious to come. That is, if mother had her way. 

 

Sanjay wanted none of it. He didn’t want another marriage. He didn’t want a crown. He only wanted Shara and her child, their child. That ship had sailed. 

 

He shuffled aimlessly off from the holo table and found himself heading in the direction of his mother’s quarters. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to tell her. That she got her stupid, kriffing wish? There was no chance of Shara coming back to him now. 

 

But mother was nowhere to be found. Sanjay entered her bedchamber hesitantly. And then continued across to her private changing room and refresher.

 

There was a dressing table and the surface of it, apart from makeups and creams and powders were medication bottles and styms. Sanjay sat on the padded stool and looked at himself in the mirror. Wouldn’t that be the cruelest joke? What if he just finished it all right here with Sanda Rash’s own private apothecary. Surely one of these bottles contained something that would put an end to it all, to all the pain. Dxun, surely any of them in the proper quantity would do the job. 

 

He lifted a bottle and studied the tiny print on the label. He read, “For the treatment of the advanced symptoms of… Fartrad’s Disease?” 

 

Sanjay didn’t know much about the condition but he had the vague memory of hearing somewhere that it was painful and debilitating and… genetic. He dropped the bottle and stumbled off the stool, retreating until his back was against the opposite wall. His hand covered his mouth but he could still see his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. That was another inherited trait from his mother. Did she pass this on to him as well? 

 

Could he have, would he have passed it on to his own children if he and Shara had managed to have a baby? He was suddenly relieved that they hadn’t. Shara had a healthy child. She was happy. 

 

Why hadn’t his mother told him? He saw her reflection join his in the mirror. “Oh there you are. Why in Dxun are you in here?” She asked. 

 

Sanjay pointed at the collection of medicines on the counter. He couldn’t form words to speak the question. 

 

“So you know my secret.” Sanda sighed, resignedly and sat on the stool looking up at her son. “Yes, I have Fartrad’s Disease. I never wanted to worry you and Melaana with my suffering. The medications slow the progression but the pain is still… bothersome.” That was an understatement. It must be. 

 

Sanjay found his tongue. “But the disease is genetic. I might have it. I might have passed it onto my children.”

 

“You and Melaana both were carriers,” she explained. “Why do you think I’ve been so careful about who the two of you chose for mates? Shara wasn’t if that’s what you’re worried about. I had her tested after your foolish elopement. I would have pushed for the annulment much sooner if I had thought she might give us an heir who was… like me.” 

 

It sounded for a moment as if she was actually concerned about someone other than herself. But then if she had suffered as her diagnosis implied, how could she ever want another being to have to go through that same agony? Sanjay had long suspected that his mother had some sort of medical condition. He knew she drank to escape something. That had started long before Melaana’s death. He had never imagined it was something quite so… well… terminal. 

 

He had a thousand questions just then but as she seemed ready to talk about it without him asking he kept his mouth shut and listened intently. 

 

“I was already old enough to be showing signs of the disease before my parents realized that might be the cause and at first they denied it. Perhaps it was something else. Maybe it was only growing pains. By the time they had me tested, I was hurting almost all the time. We weren’t poor. There were enough credits for them to pay for the treatments I needed and I finally found some relief.

 

“I was old enough that they should have been thinking of a marriage alliance for me. They said they didn’t want me to have to face the kind of rejection that learning of my affliction was sure to bring.” 

 

Who were these people who had treated her so abominably? Sanjay was almost glad that he had never met his grandparents on that side of the family. He knelt and took his mother’s hand as she continued.

 

“I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. People had told me that I was pretty.” She blushed demurely. “I entered a beauty contest knowing that the winner would take a trip to the capitol and ride in a speeder in a parade. It sounded so grand. And then I won. And your father was the driver of that speeder. He was already a lord in his own right and I told him a bit of my story. He… had compassion on me. He was tested for the disease to make sure he wasn’t a carrier and to make sure that…” Sanda stroked her son’s cheek lovingly. “You wouldn’t suffer.

“Of course he was a good deal older than me. With my condition however there was every chance that he might outlive me. I’ve been blessed, Sanjay, to find treatments to extend my life this far.

 

“We made our marriage work, your father and I, and I gave him a son to carry on his name.” She gazed proudly at the man before her. Sanjay rarely saw that expression in her lovely eyes. 

 

“We’ll find you someone, my dear, never you fear. Mother will find you a bride, from a suitable family, with no nasty afflictions to pass on to your little ones.”

 

“Yes, Mother.” He nodded dutifully and got to his feet, knowing that the audience was nearing its completion. 

 

“Don’t you have an art lesson or something to prepare for?” She asked turning to her mirror and patting her hair. She seemed to have already mentally dismissed him as she began to rearrange the bottles on the counter that he had moved out of their original place. Or perhaps she was checking to make sure that they were all still there. 

 

Did he have a lesson? He couldn’t remember. No, he didn’t. He had told his most recent teacher to get out after the imbecile had insisted that they go to the harbor and draw boats. But he didn’t want to tell his mother that. He’d find another teacher before she knew that he’d stopped sending credits to the last. 

 

He said simply, “Yes, Mother.” and took his leave from her chambers. 

 

He did need to find another teacher, someone who could teach him what he really wanted to learn. But what did he want to learn? Sanjay thought of the picture he had seen on the wall of the Rupingwood’s small house near the market. Shara and her mother had been so perfectly captured. That’s what he wanted to paint. He wished for a moment that he could ask the artist of that painting how he had managed to get the look in their eyes so true to life. 

 

What if he could? What if he could find the artist who had painted that picture and convince him to come and be his instructor? Credits were no object. Sanjay was sure he could entice the man away from whatever other projects he might be wasting his time on. If only Sanjay knew who he was or how to contact him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know how to contact LS and I! Write us a little comment or come and check out the forum. Thanks again for reading!


	57. The Siege of Iziz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come. While the rebels work on ridding Iziz of the droid army, the northern navy sails to Iziz to take back the capital. Meanwhile, DK takes the reins when Sanjay takes atonement into his own hands. -LS

The city of Iziz is eerily calm when the navy sails down the river. No droids or soldiers patrolling the docks, no ships in the harbor, no people going about their daily business. The only evidence that Iziz isn’t a long-abandoned ruin are a few plumes of smoke rising from within the city walls. 

 

“I don’t like this,” a fighting man worries where he thinks she can’t hear. 

 

_ They couldn’t say TRAP any louder if they painted it in neon letters on the walls, _ Dalla laments.

 

One-Eye must be thinking the same thing. He casts his good eye to the tops of the walls, watching for snipers or projectiles or salt gods know what else. 

 

_ I really hope Father knows what he’s doing.  _

 

As if Marlon can read her mind, the comm chimes and Dalla answers. “Aye, Father.” 

 

_ “Ready cannons. We’ll be in range in two minutes,”  _ he orders. 

 

Dalla repeats the order to her crew. “Scouts reported the droid army leaving the city gates a few hours ago. How many men does he have?” The silence is suspicious. Lux’s last report was of a full-force riot the droid army couldn’t contain. “He has to have enough to manage the people’s rage.” 

 

_ “Either that or the people of Iziz just don’t want to open their doors to northerners,”  _ Elinor Harkon grumbles. Looks like they’re on party comm.  _ “I doubt they’d welcome a siege no matter which banners we’re flying.”  _

 

_ “Whether they fight us or not, a riot and a siege is never a good combination. We’ll have to be careful of civilians,”  _ Jamos worries. The risk of friendly fire always decreases when using edged weapons, but northerners are no strangers to blasters and stray harpoons. 

 

“Our spy in Iziz says House Flint’s southern branch split on the issue,” Dalla reports. “Some of his fighting men are Flints, but the spy doesn’t know who or how many.” 

 

_ “Other than the Rash vassals and stewards, I think that’s all he has,”  _ Glover Harkon admits. 

 

_ “The Royal Palace is still crawling with droids. It’s the last Separatist stronghold in the city.”  _ Marlon says.  _ “They won’t release it easily, but if we take it we’ve all but won.”  _

 

_ “Father, do you know how many men the vassals have?”  _ Ephraim asks. 

 

Glover doesn’t sound too sure.  _ “A few hundred, perhaps. It’s the Flints I’m concerned about.”  _

 

_ “Weak bastards,”  _ Wyman Flint spits.  _ “They were too cowardly to leave Kira during the Beast Wars, and they’ve never grown spines since. You couldn't get them to commit if you held a blaster to their heads.” _

 

_ “If you Flints didn't have so many children, we wouldn't be having this problem,”  _ Jamos snarks.

 

Wyman snorts.  _ “Look who’s talking.” _

 

_ “Aye, Jamos. Are you sure your wife isn't a Flint?”  _ Ephraim jests.

 

_ “Third great-grandmother on her father’s side, if Grandmother told us correctly. Though with the Harkon’s and Bralykburn’s penchant for twins you’ll probably pass us on your first try.”  _ They all can practically hear his signature grin.  _ “Congratulations, by the way.” _

 

There’s a short silence, and then Hugo Bralykburn speaks up:  _ “Ephraim, what does he mean?”  _

 

_ “About that, Hugo. Talia didn’t want you to worry about her since we’re going into battle and all, but she’s pregnant. You’re going to be a grandpa.”  _

 

Hugo sputters.  _ “And she left me to find out on a pre-battle party comm?!”  _

 

Jamos chuckles.  _ “Funny what you can find out from a comm, isn't it Bralykburn?” _

 

_ “I swear, Jamos --.” _

 

Elinor clears her throat.  _ “Can we get on with this so Captain Blackwell can get home to his wife and make more babies? And so Ephraim and I can get home before Talia pops out my niece or nephew or both?” _

 

_ “Both? Really, Ellie?”  _ Ephraim groans. 

 

_ “I want two nieces, but if you have to have a boy in there --.” _

 

_ “Back to the battle,”  _ Marlon interrupts.  _ “Wyman, we’ll take the Flint forces and do everything we can to spare you the shame of kinslaying.” _

 

_ “It’s not kinslaying on a battlefield, my lord.” _

 

“Still, they are part of your House and we don't want to repay your loyalty with dishonor,” Dalla says, silently praying Werda has the sense to stay in the tunnels. 

 

_ “It's still going to happen. I know it and my men know it. We may not like it, but we’re prepared.”  _

 

There’s a beat of silence and then Dalla says, very quietly. “Thank you, Uncle Wyman.” 

 

Marlon swiftly changes the subject.  _ “Does everyone know which gates to breach and where to access the battering rams?”  _

 

_ “Aye. _ ” 

 

_ “Keep your comms on you. A time will come we need to reach each other quickly and I would rather not lose any of you because you don’t have your comms.”  _

 

“Captain, we’ll be in range in thirty seconds,” One-Eye announces. 

 

“Ready weapons.” 

 

The others’ crews must have told them the same thing.  _ “May we go in the light of the salt gods,”  _ Marlon says. 

 

“In the light of the salt gods.” Dalla kills the comm and hurries over to One-Eye at the bow. “That’s six cannons that could hit us from this angle?” 

 

“Aye.” 

 

“But they’re not aiming.” It isn’t that the cannons aren’t aiming at her ship, either; they aren’t aiming at any of them. She doesn’t need to hear warning bells to know that something’s wrong here. 

 

“Maybe they don’t have the men to use them?” 

 

She shakes her head. “They’re automated.”  _ Come on Rash, why are you pointing your cannons at the water when there’s a navy in range?  _ “Aim for the cannons but hold your fire. I want to know what game he’s playing with us.” 

 

When the cannons fail to move she hits on another idea. “Kriff, the riverbed! Navigator, check the sonar. Did he put something on the riverbed?”

 

The navigator taps the screen and shakes his head. “No obstacles, Captain.”

 

_ Then what is this?  _ If he doesn't want to shoot them and he doesn't want to tear them apart from below, then what does he want to do?  _ They don't have troops on the riverbanks, do they? _

 

Nope. Dalla resists the urge to pace bow to stern and back again. She doesn't see any troops waiting to attack them from behind, nor any gates or chains to close them off. She knows they’re sailing into a trap; they have to be sailing into a trap. 

 

_ They must be hiding something nasty behind the gates. Let us land, ram them open and then greet us with bombs or falling boulders or poison gas or salt gods know what else,  _ she decides. She can't think of anything else.

 

“Use caution at the gates,” she orders. “They’re like to be waiting for us there.” The cannons are still eating at her but her father hasn't given orders to destroy them, and he’s the fleet commander. 

 

One-Eye scans the docks as they get closer. “They rarely start out this quiet,” he mumbles. 

 

“I don’t like it any more than you do, One-Eye. This isn’t like what he’s done before, just throwing droids at us. He never sat and waited.” A commotion goes up on the other ships and both of them see what it’s about: a shadow’s rising on the top of the wall. Quickly.

 

“That has to be it,” she mutters. “Starboard cannons, aim for whatever’s giving off --” 

 

Before she can finish her sentence four droid gunships clear the city walls and swoop toward the northern fleet. 

 

Marlon’s voice booms across the water: “All vessels, fire on those gunships!” 

 

“Starboard, fire!” 

 

The gunners and those on every other ship obey, loosing scores of particle beams at the gunships. But instead of the ships exploding from the onslaught and crashing into the river, the cannon shots fizzle out against an ultraviolet barrier. 

 

_ Salt gods, they’ve got a ray shield.  _

 

And they’ve got a lot more. The gunships barrage the last row of the fleet with heavy cannons, turning them all to bits in the blink of an eye. 

 

Dalla and One-Eye race to the stern to get a better look at the carnage. 

 

“We have to find cover,” he implores. 

 

“We can’t. The wreckage would tear us apart.” Who needs gates or chains when you can turn your enemies themselves into blocks? Dalla searches the sky for the gunships and swears. “Kriff, they’re coming back! We’re sitting gulls without shields and we don’t have anything to break theirs.” 

 

“Torpedoes?” A fighting man nervously suggests to no one in particular. 

 

“Those will just sink our own men.” Instead they’ll need torpedoes’ cousin, missiles. And of course, missiles are the one thing they don’t have. 

 

The gunships turn back for the navy, this time coming for the starboard flank. And to Dalla’s horror, one of them is aiming straight for  _ Maiden’s Heel.  _

 

“Incoming! Get down!” she bellows and hits the deck. Seconds later, the ship shudders from impact, a hundred screams ring out, and the deck starts to tilt. 

 

Dalla raises her head in time to see the gunship flying past them and off to the east. The entire crew is lying on the deck, either still facedown or looking for her or the gunship. 

 

Leading by example Dalla gets to her feet and shakily makes her way to the rail to survey the damage. The gunships gutted the hulls of those around hers; she imagines  _ Maiden’s Heel  _ must be in the same state. She doesn't want to think about what happened to her crew belowdecks.

 

The deck tilts further and reminds her that she doesn't have time to think about it either.

 

“Abandon ship,” she orders, 

 

One-Eye hears her. “I’ll deploy the lifeboats.” 

 

The deck steepens and some of the younger sailors stumble. The gunships must have torn out the entire hull. “We don't have time for lifeboats.” She checks one last time to ensure she has her weapons and comm and then swings a leg over the rail.

 

“Abandon ship,” she repeats and signals them to jump.

 

…

 

Dalla has a pretty good bouquet of reasons to hate Sanjay Rash.

 

First and foremost, there’s the betrothal. Forcing someone to marry you isn't exactly a prime way to make friends.

 

Second, Sanjay Rash hurt her loved ones. He’d made Aunt Shara’s life hell when they were married, he held Kason hostage, he was a hair’s breadth away from executing Thias, and his men murdered Miranda. There's no way she can forgive him for even one of those offenses, let alone all of them together.

 

And on top of all that, he sank her frakking ship.

 

The last few members of Dalla’s crew hit the water when she jumps in herself. Apparently when the choice is between following your captain overboard and staying on the sinking ship, most take the plunge.

 

It's not just her crew in the water; most of the other ships did the same, which makes it harder for Dalla to do a headcount. Counting her and One-Eye, she gets twenty-three.

 

“Do we have any injured?” Heads shake. If there’s one thing those gunships don't do, it's leave injured. “Swim for the  _ Polaris  _ and the  _ Queen Lana. _ ”

 

The other crews have the same idea, heading for their houses’ remaining ships. Dalla lifts her comlink out of the water, praying it still works. Thank gods for waterproofing. She punches in Steela’s frequency. 

 

“Steela, you all need to find cover now.”

 

_ “Got that covered. We have the Highlands. The droids can only reach us through the valley.” _

 

“You need more cover than that. Four gunships just flew over and turned our rear flank into driftwood. They have a ray shield and particle beams don't --” wake breaks over her head and she holds the comlink aloft. “Nothing works on them.”

 

_ “Dalla, what was that?” _

 

Situations speak louder than words. “I'm in the water.”

 

_ “What?!” _

 

“I'm in the water, Steela. They sunk my ship!”

 

_ “Holy kriff! Are you okay?!” _

 

“I'm fine, but if you don't find cover you won't be. I've got to go. Be --” she’s cut off by a commotion on Steela’s end before the comm terminates. “Steela? Steela, say something!”

 

A whirring sound grabs her attention and her blood runs cold when she sees what it is. 

 

_ Oh gods, the cannons. That's why he aimed the cannons at the water. _

 

“Forget the ships; get to the wall!” She orders right before the cannons open fire on the people in the water. 

 

…

 

At the sound of the comm chime Lana ran for it as fast as her one and a half year old legs would take her. She slid across the floor to the holotable in stocking feet and pressed the button she'd seen Momma press so many times to activate the image. 

 

“Daddy!” She exclaimed as the projection came into focus. But the man in the image was not her father. The toddler frowned at the man with the crown on his head.

 

He didn't speak.

 

Shara ran into the room a moment later so focused on her daughter, she wasn't paying attention to the holoimage. “I don't know what ever possessed you to bring home a puppy in the middle of everything.” She knelt before the little girl and began to wipe her tiny hands with a disinfectant cloth.

 

“Kasey poop.” Lana grinned.

 

“Aye,” said her mother. “The puppy pooped and you were trying to help Momma clean it up.”

 

“I help!” She looked up at the strange man proudly.

 

It was only then as Shara turned her attention to disinfecting the edge of the table and activation button, that she noticed the man in the image was not her husband. “Dxun!” She swooped up the baby in her arms protectively and took a step back as if he could jump out of the projection and snatch the child away.

 

_ “Shara,” _ Sanjay Rash whispered, his voice choked with emotion.  _ “This is your daughter? Kason mentioned a younger sister. I had no idea… what a beautiful child.” _

 

There were dozens of things she could have… things she wanted to say to her ex-husband just then but the majority of them weren't appropriate for the toddler's ears. She set Lana down, placing herself between the child and the holorecorder. “Baby Girl, go and play with your brothers.”

 

“Aye, Momma.” Kason must have taught her that. The little girl sped right off and Shara watched her go. She seemed to have skipped learning to walk and gone straight to running and climbing. She was growing up so fast.

 

Still Lana had no way of understanding what was truly going on. She missed her eldest brother and her cousins. She'd even chosen to name the norcog pup after her missing brother. At least Shara's eldest was away from the palace, away from that monster. 

 

_ “They keep you on your toes.”  _ Came the all too familiar voice behind her.  _ “But it is what you always wanted. You are amazing with them. You know, for a moment, holding her, you looked just like that picture of you and your mother that used to hang in your father's house. Do you remember the one?” _

 

Shara spun on the spot. “Of course I remember!”

 

His eyes widened at her angry response, hands raised as if in surrender, but he kept talking. _ “I understand now. You said once that we wanted different things, that I only wanted a way to carry on my name and you wanted a child to hold and nurture and teach. You said my mother would take our child away to be raised by nannies and tutors. You were right. Kason, your daughter, the others, they are so fortunate to have you.” _

 

“And yet you kept him from me. You held my child hostage.” Her voice was low and dangerous, but he didn't seem to notice.

 

_ “A remarkable boy; he's very smart and loyal.” _ This Sanjay added with a bit of a frown but then he went on wistfully. _ “And his voice… it… it was almost like hearing you sing again, Shara. I… found myself wishing he was mine.” _

 

“But he is not yours!” She yelled. Sanjay jumped in surprise at the outburst and the noises of her other children elsewhere in the Hold ceased for a moment. She lowered her voice when she spoke again. “You never managed to get me pregnant, in case you've forgotten.”

 

_ “Shara, I haven't…”  _

 

“And never an ounce of compassion.” She cried. “Every month, every failed test... I died inside. Never once did you attempt to comfort or console. It was always, 'how long will it be till we can try again?’”

 

She swiped away at the tears. “And then when it came so easily to Mel and Brem, seeing their happiness, trying so hard to be happy for them. All I got was comparison and blame.”

 

_ “I am sorry, Shara. I had no idea. I only wanted a child so badly so that Mother would take our relationship seriously.” _

 

“I'm sure she was thrilled to see me go. Probably she had a list of replacements a kilometer long...” 

 

_ “That never mattered to me.”  _ There was a shine in his eyes even in the holoimage.  _ “No one has ever mattered to me but you.”  _

 

She realized now how broken he was. Losing his mother, this war, the pressure of answering to Count Dooku, had all taken their toll. That still didn't excuse him. “Yet you caused all this trouble trying to marry my niece. What? Was that just so you could see me at the family reunions?”

 

He didn't answer right away. She gaped at him in disbelief.

 

_ “I - I did want to see you again but that wasn't why…”  _ He let out a breath. _ “I put off marrying again as long as I could. Mother had been at me about it for years. Finally, a girl from one of the five Onderonian houses came of age and before her death, Mother made me swear that I would secure a marriage alliance and produce an heir for House Rash.” _

 

“She's dead, Sanjay. You should have let it go!” She said, exasperated. 

 

_ “Perhaps, I should have.” _ He said quietly.  _ “But I had also been thinking about what you said about having a child to raise, to hold in my arms. I'm not getting any younger. I wanted to experience that. I would have given Dalla that…” _

 

“Sanjay, that's what I wanted. It's not what Dalla wants. She wants to sail her ship. She wants to be with her father and her brothers. And she's not much more than a child herself. Salt gods, Sanjay, she's young enough to be our daughter!” Shara caught herself, horrified. “Your… sh-she’s young enough to be  _ your _ daughter.”

 

_ “Shara, I - you know I always thought I wanted a son to carry on the Rash name but then I remembered the way Melaana was with my Father, the way you were with yours. Kason was named after him wasn't he? And then seeing you with your little girl just now. If we could have had a daughter…” _

 

“You know who else was just that age?” She couldn't let him go on. “Miranda Harkon. Your cousin? The girl who was murdered on your orders?”

 

_ “I never ordered… I would never think…” _

 

“No, you didn't think! But it was your men who killed her! She was Dalla's best friend! Do you think she would have ever been able to forgive you for that?”

 

_ “I had no idea it had happened. I didn't even know I had cousins. I sent…” _

 

“Red roses?” She asked. “Yes, very subtle. Did you know I held Miranda the day she was born? Her eyes, even then, were so like yours, like Mel's. It was hard for me to even look at her face, so beautiful, but all I could think of was the disdain I always felt from your mother.” Shara took a steadying breath. “Oh I got over it eventually. Your aunt has never treated me with anything but kindness. And Miranda… she was beautiful, and fearless. She had just become captain of her own ship. She loved sailing. She was… very like Melaana…”

 

_ “Stop!” _ He held his hands over his ears unable to listen any longer. 

 

Shara watched him weeping like a baby. He had brought it on himself and yet she had loved him once. “Why did you even comm me?”

 

Sanjay sniffed and tried to collect himself. _ “I'm all alone now. General Tandin defected to the rebels, but I'm sure you knew that.” _

 

She gave a small nod.

 

_ “I-I was watching from my balcony as the navy came in. Shara, some of the ships went down. One of them was at the head, flanking your brother-in-law’s flagship. She was flying Blackwell banners.”  _

 

Shara’s heart stopped for a fraction of a second. “Was it the bigger one, or the smaller one?” she demanded. Neither option was good: the larger of the two ships that would be flanking the  _ Queen Lana  _ was the  _ Polaris,  _ and the smaller was  _ Maiden’s Heel.  _

 

He cringed.  _ “The smaller one. And half the right flank along with her. Shara, please tell me that wasn’t...that I didn’t just get Dalla killed.”  _

 

Shara had stopped hearing him at “right flank.” She fell to her knees. “Oh salt gods, no.” She knew every man and woman on those ships from working with Jamos; she couldn’t bear the thought of them… “Please, let them be okay.” 

 

Sanjay had gone back to sobbing full-force.  _ “I killed her, didn’t I? I killed that sweet girl. I never meant for this to happen! I was going to be gentle with her, I was going to give her a child. She never would have been in Iziz if I hadn’t … and now she’s dead too. Oh gods!”  _

 

Shara refused to believe that was the case. She couldn’t let herself believe something had happened to Dalla when she couldn’t comm the fleet for confirmation. “Is that the only reason you commed? To tell me you think my niece is dead?” She got back to her feet and brushed off her skirt, embarrassed she’d lost her composure in front of him even for a second. “Who do you think you are Sanjay, the angel of death?” 

 

_ “No, that wasn’t all of it.”  _ He wiped his tears with his sleeve. _ “The palace is crawling with Dooku’s droids. They treat me like I'm not even here. I fear… if they don't get the outcome they desire… maybe even if they do, that they're going to kill me.” _

 

“And what,” Shara asked not sure how she was supposed to feel. “You expected me to come to your rescue?”

 

_ “No. I know I don't deserve it. I just…” _ He looked her straight in the eye.  _ “I just wanted, if I'm not going to be alive much longer… to see you again, hear your voice… I love you.” _

 

Shara turned away from the holoimage and covered her mouth with her hand. 

 

_ “I know you can't love me back. You have your husband and your beautiful children.” _ He breathed a sob. _ “I do hope you won’t remember me too cruelly. And Kason, and Dalla’s father and brothers, and the Harkons, tell them… that I am truly sorry.” _

 

“I will.” She turned back to face him but just then she heard a crash and someone crying and, “I'm telling Momma!”

 

“I have to go,” she told Sanjay.

 

_ “Of course you do.” _ He nodded sadly.  _ “Goodbye, Shara.” _ And his image faded from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DK wrote Sanjay’s comm to Shara a long time ago, before we even knew where it would fit in the story. I think it does quite well right here, and it’s so exciting to finally share it with you.


	58. Making Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hold is beginning to fill up with the growing Blackwell family and even though the holidays are always fun to share with children it can be nice for a couple to get some time away just the two of them. ~ DK

It was true what they said. Salt and light was so much more fun with kids. Dalla at five and a half knew all of the stories and traditions and was determined that everything be carried out to the letter. She had made them a list that consisted mostly of scribbles with an assortment of Aurebesh and Onderonian characters that she was just beginning to learn to print. But she would gladly read it to anyone who asked or even if they didn't. “I need to read you what's on my list so you know what to get me for presents!”

 

Thias seemed determined to let them all know that he was going to be three so he was going to need more presents than anybody else. He had to be watched closely so that he wouldn't show up in a room where presents were being hidden or wrapped and then announce to the recipient what they would be getting. “But shhhhh it's a surprise!” 

 

And Kason who had just celebrated his first birthday, toddled everywhere and squealed at everything. He loved the decorations and the Brylk oil lanterns. He wanted to grab everything and bring it down to his level. He had very nearly toppled a few things down onto his head or burned his fingers. Dalla was being a great help of keeping an eye on him when Shara was cooking. 

 

No one wanted Shara to be interrupted in her work when they smelled the delicious scents coming from the kitchen. They lost count however of the number of times Jamos snuck in to steal a taste or a kiss. It was coming up on their third anniversary as well after all and he, like Thias with his birthday, seemed intent on providing an equivalent or surpassing quantity of celebration in honor of the event.

 

Marlon teased them with his booming laugh, “If you two aren't careful, there will be something else in the oven before the new year dawns.”

 

“Who says we’re trying to be careful?” Shara called back over her shoulder. 

 

Jamos waggled his eyebrows and wrapped his arms around his wife suggestively. 

 

“And I suppose the two of you would like to be left alone?” Marlon crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorway as if he had no intention of leaving the kitchen.

 

Jamos shrugged. “I think I can ignore him. How about you, love?”

 

Shara giggled, shaking her head and tried to concentrate on the dinner preparations on the counter in front of her. 

 

Just then a half dressed little boy went running down the hallway. “I gotta go potty!” Thias must have started undressing on his way to the ‘fresher. At least he was trying to get there on time. Marlon took off after him at all speed. 

 

“Where were we?” Jamos kissed her deeply and all thought of the food for the feast night celebrations were forgotten. 

 

“Did you mean it?” he asked her. “That we’re not being careful? That you’d like to have another baby?” 

 

Shara laughed. “Well don’t you think Kase needs a little brother to play with?”

 

“A brother? So we want a boy again this time?” 

 

“A girl would be nice too. But I do love our little boy.”

 

“And we could name this one after me, since the first one was after your father and some other guy.”

 

“Hey,” she laughed again, “I thought we agreed that we didn’t name him after Dane Bonteri. We just both liked the name.”

 

“Still.” He kissed her again. “This one can be Jamos, right?”

 

“But what if it is a girl?” They paused and then they both said together as if they had rehearsed it ahead of time. “Jamie.” 

 

“I like that.”

 

“So do I.” 

 

Jamos grinned. “We had better get to work on that then.” His lips were intent on hers while his hands began to lift her skirts.

 

“Not right now, Jamos!” she shoved him away but not for lack of enjoying his company. “I’ve got a feast to cook. After, Love. We can make our next baby after supper.”

 

“I’ll be counting on that.” He slapped her behind as he went out the door. 

 

She called after him. “Then don’t let Kase have any more sweets! He’ll be up all night!”

 

“I won’t. I promise.” he looked back around the corner and blew her a kiss. 

 

Salt gods she loved that man and she was so proud to be the mother of his children.

 

…

 

When Marlon heard voices coming from the slightly open door of his brother's office he should have walked right on by.

 

“... Just put him down for a nap.”

 

“So we have a little time to ourselves.”

 

“I thought you wanted another one.”

 

“I do.” A gruff laugh.

 

A sigh. “That's not exactly the way to go about getting one.”

 

“Maybe not, but as I remember from the last time it is important to keep my wife happy during the process and I do enjoy keeping my wife happy.” 

 

“Jamos…”

 

Aye. Marlon really should have just kept on walking but instead he barged right into the door. They should have learned to lock the thing by now so it was really their own fault.

 

What he found appeared to be Shara sitting alone at her husband's desk. Except for the fact that her face was flushed bright red and the thud and muffled curse from under the desk, he might have believed that was the case. 

 

“You wouldn't have happened to see Jamos around? I can't find that brother of mine anywhere.” 

 

“S-see Jamos? No.” She lied. “Did you need him for something?”

 

He walked closer to the desk as he considered. “You know I did, but he’s probably already under a pretty heavy work load.” He knocked on top of the desk for emphasis. 

 

He thought he might have heard another murmured curse but Shara spoke up. “Is there anything you'd like me to tell him in case I do see him?”

 

“Just that…” Marlon struggled not to burst out laughing. “That I'm proud of my little brother for getting the job done even in the midst of overwhelming distraction.” He cracked a smile and turned to leave. 

 

As soon as he was out of the room he heard a mad scrambling. The door slammed shut behind him and the locking mechanism clicked. And before the soundproofing silenced their voices there was an unmistakable shriek of a giggle. 

 

“I’m gonna kill him for that.” 

 

“Not before you finish what you started, Captain.”

 

…

 

“But I don’t wanna go to bed!” Thias could be heard crying from his bedroom throughout the entire Hold. Lana must have been having a Dxun of a time with him. 

 

Dalla looked up at her father with a grin. “I’m not sleepy either. Can I watch another holo?” 

 

“What?” Marlon looked down at his little girl who was normally so sweet and obedient. He just did not know what had gotten into his children. “No, sweetheart, it’s an hour past your bedtime.” 

 

“But Father I neeeeeeed to watch another holo!” 

 

“No, Dalla. You know the rules, only one holo before bed. You can listen to a music disk while you’re falling asleep.” 

 

“But I don’t want a music disk and the last holo was too short cause I’m not sleepy at all. I’m sure I could watch another one before I’m ready for bed.” 

 

“You are ready for bed right now young lady! Now march to your room!” Marlon hated having to raise his voice with his little ones. 

 

Dalla moaned but she obeyed. 

 

Kason had been put down hours ago and hadn’t made a peep through the monitor Shara had fed through her personal comm unit. Before Marlon could leave the room in his daughter’s wake Jamos called from the other side of the room where he was snuggled up with Shara on the couch. “I thought you and Lana were thinking about trying for another one.” 

 

Marlon grunted, exhausted, as he trudged down the hallway after his daughter. 

 

Jamos laughed gleefully. 

 

“Don’t tell me you had something to do with this.” Shara pushed away from him and gave him a northern woman glare. 

 

His amusement could not be quelled. He reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out an empty package of pixi stix. 

 

“You didn’t?”

 

He nodded still grinning. 

 

“Jamos Emoth Blackwell, you are evil!” She swatted him hard on the arm. 

 

“What? After what he did last week? He deserved it!” 

 

Shara bit back a smile of her own. “We should have locked the door before he came by.” 

 

“I think you rather enjoyed the sense of danger that we might be caught.” He tickled her and she giggled. 

 

She jumped up from the couch just out of his reach as if daring him to chase her. “I guess we had better take advantage of a chance not to be disturbed.” 

 

“Aye, aye, Madam Beast Master.” He growled and took off after her toward their bedroom, making sure locks and soundproofing were activated when they arrived. 

 

…

 

“This is the most adorable idea ever.” Lana took the two shirts out of the box and laid them on the bed. 

 

“I just hope they fit.” Shara looked over at Kason sitting on the floor. 

 

Portia was patiently letting him pat her rather roughly. “Cog cog cog.” He sang.

 

“Come here sweet boy. Let’s try on you new clothes so we can show Daddy.” Shara pulled off the shirt she had put him in not long before that was already covered in drool. She laughed. “We’re going to have to do this quick before he soaks through this one as well.” 

 

Lana smiled. “Maybe you should have put Portia’s on first. Here let me take that little sailor and you can wrestle with the cog.” 

 

The norcog tilted her head curiously. 

 

“Come on Porsh. Your turn.” 

 

“Coggy coggy!” Kason giggled and Lana bounced him in her arms. 

 

Shara couldn’t help but smile as she pulled the shirt over the confused cog’s head and then pulled her front legs through the specially designed sleeves. “There. That works.” She stood back and admired her handiwork. 

 

“I still can’t believe you found a place that made shirts for norcogs.” 

 

“Too bad we can’t save it for Dalla.” Shara eyed her friend questioningly. 

 

“Well,” Lana sighed keeping her own attention on her nephew. “We don’t have any reason for this sort of thing yet.”

 

“Yet?” Shara asked hopefully. “You mean you and Marl are trying?” 

 

“We aren’t preventing anything but it took so long with Dalla. I’m not getting my hopes up that anything will happen soon.” 

 

“Wouldn’t it be fun though if we could go through this together?” Shara took Kason back from her. 

 

“Of course I’d love that.”

 

“Even if it means three in diapers in the Hold at the same time?” Shara grinned. 

 

Lana laughed. “Well Thias was easier than I expected. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll teach Kase how great it can be to be diaper free.” She tickled the toddler and he giggled again. “What do you say? Should we show Daddy and Uncle Marl your surprise?”

 

“Dada!” 

 

“Alright let’s do this.”

 

“I’ve got the holo cam ready to go.” Lana held up the device. 

 

“They’re both in the living room, Aye?” 

 

“Aye.” Lana activated the recorder while Shara set Kason down on the floor and sent him in the direction of his father and uncle to deliver his special message. 

 

“Come on, Porsh. You too. Go see daddy.” 

 

The cog followed. 

 

Aaaaand Jamos didn’t even notice what his son was wearing when he scooped the boy up. “Did Momma have to change you again?”

 

It was Thias who got the ball rolling. “Why is Portia wearing clothes?” 

 

Marlon looked up from his data pad and snorted. “Dalla were you playing dress-up with the cog?”

 

“It wasn’t me.” She hopped up from what she was doing and studied the anomaly. “It’s got words on it.” She began to sound out the letters. “B-I-G S-I-S…” 

 

Jamos frowned in confusion. He looked at the cog and he looked at his son. Then he looked back at the cog “Big sister?” And then again at Kason. “Big… brother? Shara!” 

 

She entered the living room laughing.

 

“Big brother? Our boy’s gonna be a…” 

 

She nodded happily. 

 

“We’re gonna have another baby!”

 

“Kason’s going to be a big brother.” She laughed, going to him. He hugged her one armed and held Kason in the other. 

 

“When do I get to be a big brother?” Thias asked. 

 

“Well, I don’t know champ.” Marlon smiled as his wife entered the room still recording. “What’s your mother have to say about that?” 

 

“Momma, can I be a big brother?” Thias asked her. 

 

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” Lana smiled. 

 

“Another one?” Dalla frowned. “Well, can we have a girl this time? And can we please take the shirt off Portia now?”

 

The Norcog had managed to pull the offensive garment part of the way off but now she was caught in it and started to whimper, stuck, and unable to remove it completely. 

 

“Aww poor girl.” Shara went to get her unstuck. 

 

“Let me help you with that.” Jamos set Kason down and knelt beside her. “Really and truly another baby?” 

  
  
“Little Jamos.” She beamed at him. 

 

“Or little Jamie.” He grinned back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! The Blackwell family is growing again! One for Jamos and Shara and if they’ll be nice and let Lana and Marlon get some time alone… who knows what’s in store? Well, LS and I do. We've been planning this for months. Have any guesses?


	59. Blood In The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dalla may have survived the gunship attack, but there’s still a whole city between the northerners and Sanjay. If those within the walls have anything to say about it, the streets will run red with northern blood. -LS

By the time the others land with the battering rams, Dalla, her crew, and everyone else who survived the wreck is flat against the wall thanking the salt gods that the cannons can’t shoot straight down. 

 

Marlon takes his place against the wall next to her while the engineers work on the battering ram. 

 

“Are you alright?” 

 

“I’ll be better once we get past these cannons.” Dalla looks up the wall to check for the thousandth time that nothing’s falling to crush them. The battering ram slams into the gate and she hears the echoes of another where her uncle and Ephraim Harkon are at the second breach point. 

 

From a few men over, Glover Harkon scans the sky. “Cannons will be the least of our worries if the gunships come back.” 

 

“We were only target practice,” Marlon replies. “Their main focus is the rebels in the Highlands.” 

 

“Target practice,” Elinor spits, her anger burning brighter than her hair. “Should’ve guessed. That’s all we’ve ever been to them.” 

 

The gate groans after a blow from the battering ram. Dalla readjusts her grip on her blaster. “We’re about to be a lot more than lines in the landscape.”  

 

Elinor doesn’t answer; she just simmers with silent rage and stares  _ through  _ the gate, straight to the Rash bannermen who must be waiting on the other side. 

 

“Get away from the entrance once you’re in!” Marlon orders. “Give the others space to enter.” 

 

_ “Aye, m’Lord!”  _

 

The command comes not a moment too soon. The battering ram knocks the gate doors aside, and the northerners pour into Iziz. 

 

…

 

It’s just as they suspected: the Rash bannermen are waiting for them. 

 

The northerners return fire as soon as they break through the gate and One-Eye shoves the battering ram into their line, effectively clearing a path for them to get further into the city and to find cover. He and Dalla race down it like bullets through a slugthrower with fighting men streaming behind them to hold their new route while the first through take care of the rest.

 

“Which way?” Marlon asks when he and the Harkons catch up to them. 

 

For a second Dalla’s mental map of Iziz flies out of her head and she has to look for the palace’s towers to orient herself. “Five blocks straight ahead until the next turn.” 

 

“Straight ahead!” Marlon repeats and leads the charge. 

 

At first glance, five blocks straight ahead is easy. When Rash’s men pour out of the alleys, it becomes much harder. The streets of Iziz aren’t narrow, but with so many people they may as well be sieging a packed cantina, all of them packed too close together for blasters. 

 

Steela would be sweating blood, but for Dalla it’s a godsend. She’s had a knife in her hand since she could walk, this she knows her way around.  _ It makes more sense than blasters, _ she thinks while one of the bannermen charges toward her.  _ People are filled with water. You just have to find the right place -- _

 

The soldier swings his blade at her head and Dalla leans back to keep it from slicing her face open. He swings again and she ducks, giving her a perfect view of her target. She slashes the inside of the soldier’s thigh. There’s no question she hit the artery.

 

Dalla kicks him and he staggers backward, hands clamped over the spurting wound. There’s no need to finish him off; he’s panicking and only aggravating the bleeding with his squirming. He’ll be too weak to do anything in seconds. 

 

Behind her, One-Eye drives his shoulder into his opponent’s chest. The other man’s face twists with satisfaction and before anyone can shout a warning, he grabs One-Eye and stabs him in the chest. 

 

One-Eye roars and throws his opponent off him, slashing wildly while he collapses. Dalla races over and attacks in kind. 

 

One-Eye’s attacker parries her strike and grazes her arm. A centimeter deeper and Dalla would be in the same boat as the guy whose femoral artery she just slashed, but as it is it’s more like she banged her arm on a sharp corner. While his knife hand is still up she grabs the front of his shirt and stabs blindly. The first strike is shallow, the blade stopped by something the same time she feels her opponent’s blade come dangerously close to her once again. Her second strike hits home. 

 

Dalla lets go of him and turns her attention to her first mate lying next to him. “One-Eye?!” 

 

It’s too late.  _ In the light of the salt gods, One-Eye.  _

 

There isn't time to even say the words aloud. Dalla races down the street with the rest of their men.

 

…

 

The siege starts going to Dxun when they approach the militia guardhouse. With the soldiers gone the Rash bannermen turned it into their command center, and using it as cover the street below has turned into a gauntlet. 

 

Dalla squishes behind a merchant’s stall with her father and Elinor and asks “Any ideas?”

 

“Working on it,” Marlon ducks to avoid a blaster bolt ringing over their heads. 

 

Elinor swears. “They’ll line the streets with us before you come up with any ideas.”

 

“What else can we do?” Dalla gives her a hard look.

 

“There are more of us than there are of them. We charge them, and we’re sure to get through.”

 

“Elinor, they have the high ground. Scores will die.” Marlon tells her. 

 

“Aye, they will. But we know that. You know men will die when you siege a city.” Her chin wobbles. “You know little girls die when you threaten a king.”

 

Dalla’s stomach knots. “We couldn't --”

 

“You know that, and I know we don't have time to think of a new idea.” She cocks her blaster. “Come with me or don't. I have a snake to kill.”

 

And with that, Elinor gets to her feet and charges into the gauntlet.

 

_ “Elinor!”  _ Marlon shouts and shoves past Dalla to drag her back under cover. He’s only made it about twenty feet when a spray of blasterfire comes from the building and engulfs Elinor. Not half a second later another shot hits Marlon’s leg and he collapses. 

 

Glover Harkon’s scream sounds more animal than human.

 

“Father!” Dalla shrieks. 

 

Her voice gets lost in the rising din. For the fighting men who couldn't hear Marlon and Elinor’s argument, their Liege Lord’s charge is enough of an order to move forward. Dalla’s loudest bellow might as well be a whisper in the roar. 

 

If she doesn't get Marlon out of the way now, he’s going to be trampled. The men in the building redirect their fire to the charging northerners and Dalla seizes her chance. She scrambles out of cover, grabs Marlon under the shoulders, and drags him with all her might.

 

She drops him as soon as they’re out of the way. “Father, how bad is it?”

 

“Not bad,” Marlon lies through gritted teeth. “Blaster bolts cauterize, so I don't have to worry about -- careful!” 

 

Dalla takes her hands from her father’s leg. She's not a healer, but she knows he needs bacta and he needs it now. 

 

The only place they’re going to get bacta is the medcenter, three blocks away. She can't drag Marlon that far without aggravating the wound and him bleeding out. There's no way she can carry him on her own. 

 

Dalla grabs the first northern soldier she can catch hold of: a twentysomething man wearing Kretash armor. “Help me with him!” She orders.

 

The soldier looks past her to Marlon and nods. They each sling one of Marlon’s arms around their shoulders, grab a leg, and rush for the medcenter.

 

…

 

Basic medical fact: people are heavy, especially when they become deadweight. Dalla and the Kretash man are no slouches, but when Marlon passes out one and a half blocks in they’re huffing and puffing.

 

“How much farther?” The sailor puffs. 

 

“We’re halfway there,” Dalla gasps. She had no idea her father was this heavy, and she's not even carrying all his weight. “Do you see anyone?”

 

He has to pant a few times before he answers her. “No.”

 

That has to be the only plus of the carnage raging a few streets over. Everyone’s too busy to notice them. “Father, hold on.”

 

“Can see the emergency bay,” the sailor pants. “Chaos.”

 

They should have known. They’ve come in on the heels of a riot, of course the emergency bay’s chaos. “Just shove.”

 

By the time they get through the doors their arms and legs feel like cooked noodles. They sling Marlon onto the first available stretcher and the sailor goes to get the nurse while Dalla snags a medical droid. 

 

“His name is Marlon Blackwell. He’s been shot in the leg,” she babbles once they manage to find a droid and wheel Marlon over to it. 

 

The droid extends a sensor and scans Marlon head to toe. “The cauterization is holding. We will take him to a ward to be stabilized and await a bacta tank,” it says. “Please proceed to the nurses’ station to complete the flimsiwork and then to the waiting room.”

 

The Kretash sailor collapses onto a bench to catch his breath. If he feels anything like Dalla does, he deserves to. “Thank you,” she says, leaning on the counter of the nurses’ station to rest her legs. “I would never have been able to get him here by myself. You sail with my uncle, don’t you? I didn't catch your name.”

 

“Colin, m’lady.” He nods deferentially, as if asking her permission. “I’m going back out in a minute,” he replies. “I’ve still got family -- I don’t know if they made it through the charge.” 

 

“I pray you find them swiftly and safely.” If she had the time or the brainspace to pray at the moment, she would. Dalla grabs the flimsiwork and stylus from the nurse and starts scribbling in Marlon’s information. As soon as this is done, she’s going back out too though not with this sailor to find his family. The medcenter’s farther away from the northerners’ rendezvous point, but there’s another target that’s closer, something she can get to before everyone else. Something that needs to be scouted if they have a hope of breaching it. 

 

She hands the flimsiwork back to the nurse and maps out the quickest route from the medcenter to the royal palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as One-Eye reappeared from "Dead Men Tell No Tales" and "Catch and Release", Colin the cabin boy is indeed the same Colin who helped carry Marlon.


	60. Master and Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Iziz and the doings of young Lord Sanjay Rash. It seems he may have found what he was looking for. At least the best he could hope for at this stage in the game. Someone who understands. ~ DK

Sanjay did his best approximation of the painting he remembered that used to hang in the Rupingwood home. He wondered if it could have possibly been sold after Shara’s father’s death in the confusion of settling the man’s property. Not that Sanjay liked to think of that time, the funeral, the last time he had held her hand…

 

But no the picture of she and her mother was one of Shara’s most treasured items. She had hoped to hang it in a nursery some day. Maybe she’d been able to do that by now. Of course she would have taken it with her when she left him forever. 

 

How Sanjay now wished that he could remember the name of the artist who had painted that likeness. The artist had, he knew, attended the beast riders’ summer fete several years running. Perhaps Sanjay could enter that information into his search. 

 

He uploaded his own drawing and his search parameters into his netlink and then tried to sift through the results. Most of it was useless, until he came to the painting of a young fair haired girl with a dalgos. The girl was about thirteen or fourteen, younger than Shara had been when she started making the fruit deliveries to the Rash Estate. But there was something about it. It had to be Shara! 

 

The artist's name was not immediately available to Sanjay’s great frustration and he had to do a little digging to find out that the man called himself Balthazar and he was rumored to still spend his summers in the jungles of Iziz. He claimed that he liked the, eh-hem scenery. 

 

Sanjay viewed some of the artist’s posted works. There was a similar piece to the one of Shara and her mother and more of the dark haired woman who he was almost sure must be Hadassa Cornel Rupingwood. In one she looked quite young and rather scantily clad. Shara had said her mother posed for an artist. The others might have been done from memory but were still an incredible likeness. 

 

This was sure to be an instructor who wouldn’t mind if his student was focused on one and only one subject. That is if he would consent to being a teacher at all. There was nothing in his holo profile that suggested he had ever taken an apprentice. Wasn’t that the greatest form of flattery, though, that Sanjay would want to learn his technique? He would make this Balthazar see. 

 

Sanjay hastily composed an introduction letter. He made sure to mention how long he had appreciated the master’s work. That he had already, on his own, attempted to study the forms and strokes that were used in the paintings he had access to. He explained to Balthazar how his father, on his deathbed, had professed the wish to have his son seek out a teacher to nurture his skill and how none of the instructors he had thus far employed were up to the task. Then he, in an off hand manner of course, mentioned that he knew the girl who had appeared in one of his favorite of the artist’s works. He wondered if Balthazar had ever wondered what had happened to the daughter of the fruit seller and the dalgos rider. 

 

Then before he could second guess himself he sent the letter and steeled himself to wait for a reply. If he didn’t hear back in… say, two weeks? He would send a follow up letter. He would increase the amount that he was willing to pay for the instruction. 

 

Meanwhile his mother did discover that the funds that were allocated for the last teacher had not gone out of the account recently.  “Have you given up on your silly sketches, Sanjay?” 

 

“No, Mother,” He sighed. “That so called teacher couldn’t teach me the difference between a square and a triangle. I am looking into the possibility of employing another. His style is more compatible with my own.”

 

She looked at him disappointedly but she let the matter slide. “Speaking of compatibility, there is a young lady I would like you to entertain one evening next week. You don’t have any… No. What am I thinking of? Of course you don’t have any plans. Dinner I think would be in order. And maybe…” She flipped through her calendar of events. “There is a symphony concert at the opera house that would be acceptable.” 

 

“Yes, Mother,” he droned having stopped paying attention after she mentioned dinner. He would go as she wished and… What was this? There was already an answer to his letter! He scanned over it and smiled, the first real smile he’d had in ages. “I’m sorry mother what did you say was the date of that concert?” He asked. 

 

She repeated the plans.

 

“No, I’m sorry, Mother. That won’t work for me. We’ll have to postpone the event. My new instructor will be here at the end of this week and we will need the time to set up his residence and studio. I simply can not meet with the young lady that evening.”

 

“Well I suppose that would be alright, if you feel it’s necessary. Who is this instructor you’ve found?” Sanda asked.

 

“I have long been an admirer of his work and he has the time open in his schedule now to leave his other engagements and give me his complete attention.” Before she could answer he continued. “I really am quite lucky to have found and employed this particular artist, Mother. He is a master of the style I have been trying with some success to perfect. I know of no other teacher who could be more helpful in my instruction.”

 

Something in his voice must have convinced her or maybe her particular cocktail of medications that day had made her agreeable to his suggestion. Whatever the reason for his good fortune, Sanjay didn’t question it.

 

On the appointed day he found himself standing on the steps of the municipal building where he had rented the studio space for his lessons with Balthazar to begin. He was nervous now that it came to it, to meet the only other being in the galaxy who had managed to capture the likeness of his one and only muse. 

 

Finally he summed up the courage to enter the building and mount the steps to the appointed room. The comforting smell of oils and pigments met him. This wouldn’t be so bad. He had nothing to worry about. 

 

And then suddenly he was faced with a dark little man brandishing a paintbrush at him like a sword. “You’re late, boy.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Sanjay was half worried and half put out. He was the one paying for the time and the venu. However the very last thing he wanted to do was to offend the master artist. 

 

“Our agreement stated that we should begin your instruction nearly one standard hour ago. I must know that you plan to take our meetings seriously.”

 

Sanjay waffled for a minute before he hit on the best possible answer: “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

 

“No it will not.” The man gestured to two easels set up side by side with his paintbrush and Sanjay hurried over to the one with the blank canvas. “You may call me Balthazar, and in this room you are no Lord. You are no serpent. You are an artist.” 

 

Sanjay nodded, still trying to smooth over the initial misstep. “Yes, of course. I’d like to thank you for --.” 

 

Balthazar waved the paintbrush and he fell silent immediately. 

 

“Talk is cheap,” the master artist announced. “I need to know what you already know, and what you still have to learn.” 

 

“Yes, of course. Well, I’ve tried to imitate the --.” 

 

“Not by telling!” The master crossed the studio and knocked on an adjoining door. A few seconds later a woman about Sanjay’s age walked out, wearing a bathrobe, and made her way to a platform in the center of the room. 

 

_ “Show  _ me.” Balthazar handed him a pencil.

 

Sanjay studied the model who had shed her bathrobe and taken her pose on the platform. She was slim and tall, with blue eyes and bright red, northern-girl hair.  Except for the the hair, she was a dead ringer for Shara. 

 

He smiled. He was finally under the tutelage of someone who truly understood what he was trying to accomplish. With another look at the model, he took the pencil from Balthazar and got to work. 

 

…

 

After a few lessons the instructor was becoming used to his student’s penchant for jabbering on and on as he worked. It seemed that the poor boy had been forced to remain quiet about his favorite subject for far too long and now when given free reign to express himself, the verbalization along with the artistic outlet were a balm for his psyche.

 

“It was my father who encouraged me to find an teacher. He had seen some of my sketches and I think he saw a bit of talent there.” The strokes that came from Sanjay’s brush as he spoke were electrified with the same passion as his words. “After his death it was so difficult to convince my mother that I needed this. And then it was so frustrating trying to find someone who understood what I’m trying to accomplish. Well, I very nearly gave up on the whole idea.” 

 

At this statement Balthazar caught Sanjay’s wrist in mid stroke. “What do we say to giving up on our dreams?”

 

Taken off guard, the apprentice stuttered, “I… I don’t know.”

 

“Not today.” The master nodded decisively.

 

“It wasn’t just my father’s death though.” Sanjay stepped away from his easel and began pacing. “When I lost my wife, I lost everything. She was my muse. She was…”

 

Balthazar didn’t allow him to continue. “Yes, when I was young I also lost my muse. Not that I ever had the fortune to have her as my wife. She died in the great plague that took so many of the beast riders.”

 

“She was the dark haired woman from your early works, the one you painted with the fair haired little girl?”

 

“Yes.” Balthazar gazed at something far in the distance and then cleared his throat before he continued. “You said in your letter that you knew the child?”

 

Sanjay swallowed hard. “ _ She _ was my wife.”

 

He should have known. It made perfect sense, why the young man would have sought out him specifically. “I always wondered what might have become of the girl. My condolences. May I ask how she died?” 

 

“Oh she's not dead.” The younger man gave a humorless laugh. “She... left me and… married another. They've just announced that they are expecting their second child.”

 

“Ah.” Balthazar nodded. “Now  _ that _ I do understand. When my Hadassa married her dalgos rider it broke my heart in two.”

 

“How did you do it? How did you manage to go on? She married another man and you lost her forever, but still when you paint her she's so ... alive! It feels like she'll come off the canvas and speak.” Sanjay begged to know the answer.

 

His teacher smiled defiantly. “Because that is the duty of the artist! We preserve what is lost to others. We keep them with us, forever!” He made sure Sanjay was listening closely. “Nothing is lost to an artist. Not time, not our muses, nothing.”

 

“But how?” Sanjay clung to his every word.

 

“Picture your wife.” Balthazar instructed, gesturing toward the easel. “Not just her face, but  _ all _ of her. How she smiled, how the sun shone on her hair, how she moved her hands when she spoke to you. Then use the techniques I've taught you, and put it on the canvas. Do that, and we will work from there.”

 

...

 

_ Who could that be knocking on the door of his studio at this Dxun of an hour? The shades were drawn to block out the harsh light of day after a long night of following his muse he had thought he might sleep the day away. He wondered as he dragged himself off the chair in which he had been sleeping, if perhaps his model from the previous evening had left something behind or if she had a jealous lover who wished to discuss the nature of her relationship to the artist.  _

 

_ Nothing had happened between them, of course. Not that she wasn't a perfectly lovely creature. The fact was that no matter how beautiful she might be, she was not Hadassa Cornel.  _

 

_ Balthazar had been fixated on the fruit merchant’s daughter for months now. Even before the Fete. He had thought that finally capturing her on canvas would quell the burning desire he felt for her but it seemed to only intensify the flames.  _

 

_ She was, in his estimation, the perfection of the female form. His single attempt of paying tribute to the contours and textures of her body, was simply not enough. He had spent many days since sitting in a quiet corner of Malagan Market watching her go about her family's business at the fruit stall, sketching. _

 

_ The knock sounded on the door once again. _

 

_ “Hold your dalgos. I'm coming.” He called. What he found when he opened the door left him speechless. _

 

_ “Can I come in?” It was the girl herself, in living color. Well, her formal dress was pure white but her face was blotchy and her eyes red from crying. Maybe not the picture of unblemished beauty he had just been imagining but he did have to keep his mind from wandering to the exact shade of pigment he would need to recreate the effect. _

 

_ “I… uh… of course.” He stuttered, stepping back out of the way for her to enter. _

 

_ She hurried in with agitated energy and he looked out at the street from which she had come, shielding his eyes from the glare of noonday sun. No one seemed to be following her.  _

 

_ He shut the door and turned to watch her pacing and wringing her hands. She was really in his studio apartment. She wasn't some sort of dream. “My dear, why… what brings you…” _

 

_ “I ran away from my wedding.” She told him. “I couldn't go through with it. I just saw all of those children who expected me to be their mother?” She looked at him questioningly as if he might have the answer. _

 

_ Balthazar shrugged helplessly. He hadn't even known she was engaged or who the lucky man might be and why children would be involved. He had thought maybe she and the beast rider, Kason Rupingwood… _

 

_ “He said he didn't mind me having one of my own. And I suppose he would be a good father. The others looked like they were well cared for…” _

 

_ “Wait.” His brain must be sleep addled. He studied her again with his artist's eye. There was a roundness to her waist that hadn't been there when he'd painted her at the Fete. A glow to her skin that couldn't be explained by tears or exertion. “You're pregnant. And your groom is… not the father.” _

 

_ “You should know.” She said softly. “You practically introduced us.” Her hand went self-consciously to her belly. _

 

_ Balthazar had the flitting thought of how he'd love to do a study of the way her body changed over the course of the child's development. He shook his head. This wasn't the time to ask. The poor girl was distraught. “Rupingwood… Rupingwood is the father.” _

 

_ She nodded. “I didn't know where else to go. My parents didn't even want me to tell him about the baby. They said there's no way he would settle down and … and be here for us.” _

 

_ Well that was debatable. He was a traveling trick rider. In all honesty he might have left girls in this same situation all over the mid rim. But Balthazar wasn't about to tell her that. “You have contacted him… against your parents will?” _

 

_ “I left him a message but there was no way I could get a reply without my parents finding out.” _

 

_ “You're in love with him.” It wasn't a question. It was obvious. As much as Balthazar might wish to ask her to accept him as an alternative, he knew that she would never agree. The way she ran from her parents’ solution made that perfectly clear. _

 

_ With a deep sigh, she carefully moved a few of his sketches out of the way so she could find a place to sit on the edge of his bed. _

 

_ The apartment was a mess. It was ridiculous to think that she might want to stay here. There was definitely no room for the child to come. _

 

_ “Then you'll contact him again from here.” Balthazar said levelly. He began searching around for his comm unit. It had to be around here somewhere. “And then you can stay until you hear back from him or until he comes to get you.” And if he doesn't want you…  _

 

_ “Thank you, Balthazar.” The tears she had been holding back till now burst forth. She continued with a sob. “I don't know how I'll ever repay you.” _

 

_ He laid his hand on the comm unit but he had to compose himself before he turned to hand it over to her. “You do know his ID?” _

 

_ “Y-yes.” She took the device with shaking hands. “I have it memorized.” _

 

_ But before she could even enter it in there was another knock at the door. “I'll get that.” Balthazar left her to her comm and went to see who could possibly be his second surprise guest of the morning.  _

 

_ A young boy, probably no more than 12 but he had already hit his first growth spurt and could look Balthazar in the eye, spoke with a creak in his voice. “Is my cousin Hadassa here?” He tried to look past the artist into the studio.  _

 

_ The girl stepped forward. “Grigori. Did Mother and Father send…” _

 

_ “No.” A deeper voice spoke up. “I made him tell me where he thought you might have gone.” _

 

_ “Kason!” Hadassa bolted past the other two, out of the apartment and into his arms. _

 

_ The rider looked her over and then kissed her. “I thought I had lost you. I came as soon as I got the message. A baby?” _

 

_ She nodded hesitantly. “You… you're not upset?” _

 

_ “How could I be upset? We're going to be a family. If that's still what you want. That Flint or…” he looked over her shoulder toward the artist, his jaw tightening. “I'm not too late, am I?” _

 

_ “No!” Balthazar assured him hurriedly. _

 

_ And Hadassa agreed. “I'd only just arrived here but Balthazar said I could stay until I could contact you.” _

 

_ Kason swallowed back his jealousy. “Thank you.” He nodded to the other man. _

 

_ “It was my pleasure.” Balthazar watched them go, speaking about how they would tell her parents and about their baby on the way. They were happy. She was happy. That's how he would always remember her and how he would paint her. _

 

...

 

Maybe it was those memories that inspired Balthazar to choose the next model for he and his student to immortalize on canvas. 

 

“You are four months into your pregnancy, isn’t that correct?” He asked her while she took her pose on the platform and he and Sanjay prepared their palettes for the exercise.

 

She shrugged. “That’s what the med droid tells me.”  

 

Sanjay was a little more nervous about this lesson than he had been in the previous weeks. “And the… father doesn’t mind that you’re here doing… this?” 

 

“A few extra credits to help pay for the bundle of joy?” She laughed. “He’s all for it.” Then she looked more seriously at the man who had hired her. “You do want me to come back when I get bigger right? That was what we agreed too.”

 

“Yes.” Balthazar smiled. “And you’ll receive the same compensation every time you return. Now if you could please hold the pose?” He gestured with his paint brush. 

 

She nodded and then was still. 

 

As was his practice while panting, Sanjay began running off at the mouth. His teacher shrugged and only half listened while he started his own sketch. 

 

“Shara and I wanted a child. Now she has a little boy with her… new husband. And she's pregnant with her second.” He paused for a moment studying the model. “I never was able to picture what she might look like pregnant.”

 

“Pay attention to the way our friend…” Balthazar motioned toward the model trying not to let Sanjay delve too deeply into his obsession. “...exhibits her…” He was trying to describe it delicately without using the term ‘weight.’ “... condition over her whole body not just in the region of her abdomen. And the way she glows.” He smiled graciously. 

 

Sanjay nodded but he couldn’t refrain from speaking for long. “If only I could see what Shara looks like now. In some ways I wished for her to stay exactly as she was and never change. Though I suppose with painting I can immortalize her as she was, while still imagining the way carrying a child would transform her.”

 

“That is exactly the lesson I am attempting to teach you, boy.” Balthazar rolled his eyes and gave the model an apologetic shrug.  

 

“Well yes.” Sanjay went on. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have found an instructor who understands how important it is, how I… need to capture her image and hold her like that forever. But… wouldn't it have been wonderful to paint her with her child like the painting you did of Hadassa and Shara together?”

 

There was silence. Only the scratching of Balthazar’s own pencil could be heard and the master looked up to see that all was still well. 

Sanjay had a beatific expression on his face. 

 

“Boy, what is the matter?”

 

He turned to face his master. “You could go up there and paint her! I can't go. She doesn't want to see me but you've painted her before! She knows you! She would want to talk to you about her mother! You could do sketches or take holo stills of what she looks like now and bring them back here and we could both paint her!”

 

Balthazar tried to shrug off the idea even though it was intriguing, the thought of doing a companion piece of the daughter and grandchild. “How in the galaxy would I know it was her and her child in the whole north?”

 

Sanjay was not to be discouraged. “The ship she took the child on for his first voyage was called the  _ Polaris _ . If they aren't at the Hold they'll most likely be on that ship.”

 

“You want me to follow the north star to the child and his mother?” Balthazar asked incredulously trying not to show how very interested he was in the scheme. 

 

“Go and find her and paint her.” Sanjay pleaded, their current project all but forgotten. “and then come back and tell me about them so that I might paint them too!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if that didn't just give away why we named him Balthazar I don't know what would. And right in the middle of Advent. It's fun to dig a little further into the history of Shara's parents from a different point of view.
> 
> And a reminder of where we are drawing our artistic inspiration. The works of Balthazar are mostly inspired by an artist named Robert Coombs, while Sanjay's paintings tend to resemble Dan Gerhartz. Look 'em up. They both have produced some beautiful pieces!
> 
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/352969689537774924/


	61. And Now The Rains Weep O’er His Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?
> 
>  
> 
> Only a cat of a different coat, that’s all the truth I know
> 
>  
> 
> In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws
> 
>  
> 
> And mine are long and sharp my lord, as long and sharp as yours.
> 
>  
> 
> And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere.
> 
>  
> 
> And now the rains weep o’er his hall, with no one there to hear.
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, now the rains weep o’er his hall, and not a soul to hear.
> 
>  
> 
> The massacre of House Shechel showed Onderon what happens to those who try to harm the Blackwells. Dalla’s off to the palace intending to teach that same lesson to Sanjay Rash, but the Force has other ideas. - LS

Getting from the medcenter to the palace is easy. It’s a straight shot down a few alleys, designed to be a discreet route to transport royals who would rather not have the populace knowing they’re going to the medcenter. Dalla keeps to the shadows and ducks away when a group of civilians walks past. 

 

Her hackles rise when, as she approaches the palace proper, it stays that easy. 

 

_ We’re in the middle of a war. There should be security everywhere. I shouldn't be able to walk straight into the palace without seeing at least one droid or guard.  _ If anyone is monitoring the security feeds they’ve probably got a glimpse of her when she dodged her fellow travelers and she has to be all over the medcenter’s feeds.  _ It’s not like I look harmless either. I’m covered in — oh, hell no.  _

 

The palace’s back gate stands wide open, with no one in sight. 

 

Dalla stays the heck away, eyeballing it warily.  _ Do you know it's me and you’re trying a lobster trap, Rash? I can walk right in but I can't get out? Well, I'm not falling for it.  _

 

But she doesn't see anything that could be a shield generator. Dalla picks up a bottle from the alley and rolls it in. Nothing. 

 

Very slowly she tiptoes up to the gate and angles her body to see inside. Nothing mounted on the walls, nothing that could spell a shield. 

 

Dalla retreats back to the shadows and enters Jamos’ frequency into her comlink. “Uncle Jamos, it's Dalla.”

 

_ “Chirn Bait!”  _ Jamos pants over the fighting in the background.  _ “Where are you?” _

 

“I'm at the south palace gate. I had to take Father to the medcenter and scouted the palace for you. It's completely empty.”

 

_ “South gate?” _

 

“Aye. It opens into the gardens and it looks like it wasn't a priority.”

 

_ “Copy, Chirn Bait. We’ll be there in five minutes.”  _ He ends the comm.

 

Technically she could wait the five minutes, but there’s more to the palace’s garden than just the gate. And Dalla would rather have just herself caught in a nasty surprise rather than herself, Uncle Jamos, and the entire northern navy. Anyway, they already know she’s here. What can Sanjay Rash do in five minutes during a citywide siege? 

 

_ Oh, lots of things.  _ She draws her knife and steps through the gate. 

 

The gardens are completely empty. No droids, no guards, no gardeners. Just Dalla and the flowers. 

 

_ This is supposed to be a stronghold? _ Dalla keeps close to a tall, flowering hedge in case she needs to hide quick. Call her crazy, but it looks like all the droids and the staff just left. 

 

She carefully works her way through the hedges toward the palace’s entrance. To her chagrin they don’t stretch all the way to the door, instead giving way to a flower garden peppered with a few statues. She doesn’t suppose she can disguise herself as one of them. Sure, one of the statues is of a young woman but of course —

 

Dalla catches the statue’s face out of the corner of her eye and almost jumps out of her skin. She turns around to get a better look, unwilling to believe her eyes. 

 

Believe them she should. It’s a statue of Aunt Shara, smiling and holding out a hand. 

 

“Okay, that’s kind of creepy,” she whispers and sends a quick prayer to the salt gods that she won’t run into her own stone twin. 

 

Pushing the creeps aside, she sinks back against the flowers and toward the door with her hair standing on end. Not counting the statue she hasn’t seen a soul on the palace grounds. 

 

When she reaches the door she flattens herself against the wall next to the control panel and presses the door control. It whooshes open without a complaint, much less a passcode. This is either the most drawn-out lobster trap she’s ever seen, or there really is no one in the palace and Dalla’s starting to think it’s the latter. But if that’s true, then why are all the droids gone? 

 

She supposes there’s only one way to find out. After a quick sweep of the gardens to make sure no one’s following her Dalla slips through the door into a large, open chamber with a spiral staircase. 

 

Nobody’s there. 

 

“You have got to be kriffing kidding me.” 

 

Even Sanjay Rash himself would be a welcome sight if it means killing her confusion. 

 

…

 

The northerners breach the south gate a few minutes later. Dalla doesn’t have to look out a window to know: she hears their battle cry and then the confused silence when they realize nobody’s there. 

 

She takes another turn down the plush hallway lined with paintings. She doesn’t really have a plan, besides finding out where the Dxun everyone is so she can tell the others. And without a map or prior knowledge of the palace, she doesn’t know where she’s going either.  

 

She’s figured out she must be in one of the public areas of the palace versus Rash’s living quarters, which makes her feel safer. Still, the utter emptiness of the place rubs her the wrong way. Whatever happened to empty the palace so completely?

“Oh, gods!” 

 

Dalla freezes and her head snaps in the direction of the voice. It’s coming from behind a closed door.

 

“Oh gods, why? Why?,” the voice shouts --  _ no, sobs. He’s sobbing.  _ “I should never have listened to her. You were  _ wrong,  _ Mother! You were WRONG! About the girl, about Shara...my Shara...I love her…”

 

Dalla’s hand hesitates over the door control. It's not that she doesn't know what's in there; more that she’s hoping that if she ignores it it’ll go away.

 

“Shara!”

 

Dalla presses the door control and peeks into the chamber.

 

Sanjay Rash lies facedown in the middle of the floor with a blaster wound in his chest, one hand clutching his torso and the other knotted in the rug to drag himself along. Dalla doesn't know what he was aiming to get to, because even from her distance she knows he’s not getting out of this one alive.

 

Sanjay sobs and raises his head. “And Melaana, she was too good for this world. Too good! She should have lived; she should have carried on the Rash name. If only her child survived; the universe needs so much more Melaana. Why her? Why not me?”

 

Dalla walks all the way in but still stays close to the doorway. Salt gods, what’s she supposed to do? Leave him alone to die? Finish him off herself? Say a prayer? She doesn't want to admit it, but she's not sure if she's brave enough to do any of that _. _

 

_ Who did this to you?  _ Was it the droids or a rogue bannerman or his own hand? She thinks she knows. Count Dooku doesn't have much patience for failure and if the droid army’s turned on Rash, that also explains the empty palace. 

 

Sanjay’s gaze drops from the ceiling with a shuddering sob and catches Dalla. They stare at each other, each one frozen in place. 

 

“Dalla?”

 

Dalla swallows. “I have a name now?” She asks. “Not ‘my lady wife’?”

 

“Dalla, the tactical droid. It’ll shoot you. I don't want you to --” he winces. “Shut the door. For your own sake.”

 

She does and takes a few more steps toward the center of the room. She's already in a room alone with Sanjay Rash, she might as well.

 

“I'm sorry,” he sobs. “I'm so sorry. I should have let it go, I should have left you alone. I should never have tried to force you to — I said I would never hurt you and I meant it. I didn’t realize I already was. I'm sorry.”

 

He sobs and Dalla’s struck by just how pathetic he looks. He's no longer a puppet monarch or a schemer or even a threat; just a broken man dying on the palace floor. It doesn't vindicate him, and she won't forgive him, but it touches something in her. 

 

“The terrorist, your husband was right, she would have been disgusted,” he moans. “Disgusted, she would have slapped me across the face if she saw what I did to you.” His gaze softens, as if he’s seeing something else, and then sours. 

 

“It was my mother’s idea. She made me promise to secure a marriage alliance. I only wanted a child. To love, to raise, to hold in my arms. A little girl, like Melaana. Like you. Like Shara’s little girl.” He coughs. “I never even got to hold someone else’s child, not once. I should have had a niece or nephew, just about your age. You could have been friends. If only. She was just too good for this world!”

 

He's getting wound up and Dalla doesn't know how much more of this either of them can take. “Sanjay!”

 

He stops. “Yes?”

 

She holds her hands behind her back so he can't see them shaking. “Do you want the gift of mercy?”

 

“The gift of ...?” He stares at her befuddled and then it hits him. “Oh no. No, no, I don't want that. I don’t deserve that. But will you stay with me? Will you sit with me, until it's done? I don't want to die alone.”

 

Dalla slowly and carefully sits on the floor next to him, one hand hovering over her knife. Sanjay grabs her free hand in his and she startles in surprise but doesn't drop it.

 

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he sniffs and squeezes her hand. “You remind me of her. I’m so sorry for what I did.”

 

“Don't try to talk,” For both their sakes.

 

“And your friend, my cousin. I didn't know. I didn't know it had happened. That poor girl.” He moans. “I’ve caused so much pain. So much. I can’t atone for it now, I have to at least say I’m sorry.”

 

What do you say to someone who tried to force you into marriage? Dalla doesn't know the first thing to say, whether to comfort or condemn. She just squeezes his hand back. 

 

“And Kason. He was just like Shara. I wished he was mine. I tried to hug him once, but he --”

 

Dalla toes the line. “I will not hug you.”

 

“Of course not. I wouldn't ask.” She's only still holding his hand because she knows he's harmless now. “Shara,” he gasps. “Shara, I love you. You’re the only woman I ever loved. My wife, my beautiful bride.”

 

He starts to sob again. This time instead of being silent Dalla makes a shushing sound. The same one, she realizes with a chill, he used to try and keep her quiet on the steps of the palace. 

 

With a great effort and leverage from Dalla, Sanjay flips onto his back, still not letting go of her hand. She can see the wound better now even with his clutching it. 

 

“Let me see,” she says and shakes her hand from his to examine the wound. This, she at least knows something about. 

 

Sanjay recaptures her hand. “There's nothing you can do. Please, this is more than enough.”

 

Dalla shifts to a more comfortable position since clearly she's in for the long haul. 

 

He turns his head to look at her instead of the ceiling. “Kason. Your brother. With the rioting in the streets, please tell me they’re alright.” 

 

“They’re fine. They’re somewhere safe.” 

 

“Thank goodness. I was afraid I’d put them in harm’s way. All of you. Dalla, I thought I’d killed you. I didn't want you to --”

 

The door opens and Dalla draws her knife to fight off an attacker. But it's only Jamos. He thunders into the room and looks at Dalla, then Sanjay, and then their intertwined hands and bellows  _ “Get the hell away from my niece!”  _

 

“Uncle Jamos.” She doesn't know how he doesn't see that Sanjay can't move even if he wants to and that she’s sitting here willingly. 

 

Sanjay turns his head again. “I can't,” he croaks. “Are you a father? Do you have children?”

 

The hatred melts from Jamos’ face.

 

“I do. Five of them,” he says and comes to Sanjay’s other side. 

 

“Five.” He smiles. “It’s what I always wanted, my greatest dream. Cherish them. Their mother…”

 

“I will,” Jamos swears. “I do every day.” 

 

“I would have been a good father. I should have been an uncle. I was so excited.” He seems to remember something. “There’s a painting down the hall. I don’t want her to see me like this. I’ve done such terrible things. I don’t want Melaana to see. Would you turn it? Turn her face away?” 

 

Jamos looks to Dalla. “Are you okay with him or do you want to go?” 

 

“I’ve been here this long. I should stay.” 

 

He nods agreement. “I’ll be back soon. If you need anything…” his eyes go back to Sanjay. He must know the man can’t hurt her but there’s no way he trusts him. 

 

“We’ll be fine,” she says. “Go flip the picture for him.” 

 

Jamos hurries out of the room, looking over his shoulder one last time before shutting the door. Dalla refocuses on Sanjay, who’s looking even worse. 

 

“Th-thank you.” He coughs. “She was —.”

 

“Is there anything I can do? A song, a story, anything?”

 

He goes to nod but a wave of pain cuts him off and he winces instead. “There’s a song. I don’t know the title, but it starts like this.” He coughs and then in deliberate, awkward Onderonian says  _ “The child learns his father’s way.  _ That’s how it starts. Will you sing it for me?”

 

Dalla shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know that one. Is there something else?”    
  


This time he succeeds in nodding. “My family. Never believed in much,” he says through gritted teeth. “Your salt gods. What do they say happens? When someone dies?” 

 

Thank the salt gods she actually knows the answer to this one. “Those who’ve led good and upright lives go to the salt gods’ halls to be with them and their loved ones until the end of time,” she says. “They watch over the ones still living and guide our ships on our voyages.” 

 

Sanjay squeezes her hand. “The others?” 

 

She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to say. “Those who aren’t welcomed into the halls roam the ocean floor, looking in on what could have been theirs.” 

 

This draws a pain-filled, humorless laugh from the man. “Even in death. That’s alright. At least I’ll get to see her again...even if I can’t be with —.” He’s cut off when his eyes roll back in his head and he nearly passes out. Dalla throws all caution to the wind and lets go of her knife to cradle his forehead.  

 

Sanjay resurfaces through what Dalla can only explain as sheer force of will. “Here,” she guides the crown off his head with one hand. “I’m going to take this off to make you more comfortable.” 

 

“Shara?” he gasps, looking at her as if through a telescope. 

 

“I’m not Shara.” 

 

“Melaana?” 

 

“No, Sanjay. I’m Dalla.” 

 

But he’s too far gone to hear her. “I’m sorry, Melaana” he weeps. “It hurts so much. I can’t. You were everything I wasn’t. She was my light. My Shara. Shara. I’m sorry ... Please have mercy on me.”

 

His hand doesn’t fall from hers when he dies. It just relaxes, his dear-life hold on her no longer needed. 

 

Dalla stays by his side still holding his hand until Jamos returns from flipping the picture. He freezes. 

 

“He’s —?

 

She nods. Jamos removes his hat, lifts a thumb to his lips and then extends his palm outward. “In the light of the salt gods.” 

 

Dalla sets down Sanjay’s hand and repeats the gesture. “In the light of the salt gods.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for tuning in to the end of the battle for Onderon, though there’s still much work to be done.


	62. Boat on the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anybody shed a few tears while you read LS’s last chapter? I know I did and you might want to hold on to the tissue box. I give you three scenes of northern couples and how they receive the news of current events. ~ DK

I never knew I

Was built so strong

My heart

My heart is a boat on the sea

I never thought I

Was built for hurricanes

My heart

My heart is a boat on the sea

 

In the cold and the dark

You're the grace of my heart

 

…

 

“Hey, Lil’ Jay, this is Daddy.” Her husband knelt and spoke to her still flat tummy. “Just wanted to let you know that you are going to love having a big brother. I’ve got one too. It’s kind of our job to drive them crazy. But don’t be too hard on Kase. He’s a really cool kid and he’s gonna teach you lots of great stuff. I know my big brother did.” Jamos looked up at her and grinned. 

 

Shara smiled. 

 

He went back to his narration. “You’ve got some great cousins, too. Oh and Portia! She might look big and scary but she will never let you down. Porsh will always be there to protect you. And so will your mom and dad, kid. Salt gods, we love you already. So you go easy on your Momma. You hear me?”

 

“I don’t know if he can, Jay.” His wife laughed. 

 

“Or her.” He corrected. “And it’s never too soon to tell our little one how much we love her.”

 

“Or him.” Shara argued back teasingly. 

 

Niamh entered then and Jamos stood up and stepped out of her way so she could do her job. It was their first appointment and the second time parents couldn’t be more excited. 

 

“You sure we can’t find out the gender this early?” Jamos asked the midwife. 

 

“You hoping to go out and get some tiny new pink or blue fishing leathers?” she asked winking at Shara. 

 

Jamos probably would do just that as soon as he knew for sure. “Just want to know what name to call her.”

 

“Or him,” Shara said again. 

 

Niamh pulled on her gloves to get to work and began feeling around on Shara’s stomach. “That time will come soon enough. I tell you, you’ll be amazed how fast it seems to go this time around now that you already have one. Today I’m just going to ask some questions and get some measurements and then we’ll see if we can find a heartbeat.” 

 

“Don’t they say that a faster heartbeat means a girl?” Shara asked. 

 

“I’ve heard that.” Niamh nodded. “But it’s not a sure method. Now when do you think…” 

 

“10 weeks!” Shara answered before the midwife could finish the question. “Going by my last cycle and when I ovulated. He should be 10 weeks.” 

 

“Or she.” Jamos whispered.

 

Shara grinned back at him. 

 

“Alright then.” Niamh pulled out the monitor and put it on Shara’s belly. 

 

Shara remembered all the times she’d been strapped to those monitors when she was pregnant with Kason. With her early labor scare, she’d had appointments once a week for her entire third trimester. She had to lie there listening to his little heartbeat, and all the times he got hiccups, waiting to see if she’d start having contractions. 

 

“I guess my third trimester will begin while it’s still the high fishing season.” Shara frowned. She knew her husband wouldn’t want to be away on a voyage after what had happened with Kase. 

 

“That’s alright.” Jamos squeezed her shoulder. “Marlon wants to get Dalla out on the water as much as possible this summer. Can you believe the little, Chirn Bait is going to be six this summer, Niamh?” 

 

“It’s pretty hard to believe.” But Niamh wasn’t smiling. She had moved the monitor around to several places on Shara’s abdomen with no sound yet emanating from the speaker.  

 

Shara looked up at her husband and then back at the midwife with worry in her eyes. “Is- is something wrong?”

 

“Little one is probably just in the wrong position.” Niamh tried to assure her. She tried another spot, pressing a bit harder on Shara’s stomach but still with no results. “You’re sure the dates are right? Maybe you ovulated a little later this cycle.” 

 

“Maybe, I…” But she knew she hadn’t. She threw a panicked glance at her husband and then stared at her stomach where Niamh was still pressing the monitor as if willing it to pick up something. 

 

“Just being shy.” Said Jamos with a nervous chuckle. “Aye, Niamh?” 

 

After a few more minutes of trying the midwife sat back with a sigh. “I tell you what. Come back tomorrow. I’ll set up the sonogram machine and we’ll get a proper look. My guess is that your dates are a little off and you’re not quite as far along as you thought.” 

 

“Aye.” Jamos agreed hopefully. “That’ll be it. And just think, Shar. We won’t have to wait another 8 weeks before we get to see little Jay.”

 

“Aye.” Shara held back worried tears. “Alright. Tomorrow then.” 

 

…

 

“How did it go?” Lana asked a soon as they entered the door and she could instantly tell that something was amiss. 

 

“We get to go back tomorrow for a sonogram.” Jamos told her. “Isn’t that right, Shar?” 

 

“She had some trouble finding a heartbeat,” Shara said flatly. “We’re going to try to get a better look tomorrow.” 

 

Lana zipped to her sister-in-law’s side. “Well, I never got but one sonogram each with Dalla and Thias. And here you get one right off the dock. We can watch Kase again if you want us to or…” She smiled at both of them. “You could take him with you. So he could have a first look at his little brother or sister.” 

 

“Oh I’m sure there won’t be much for him to see. Especially if I’m… earlier than I thought.” Shara made an attempt at a smile. “But it would be nice to have him there. Our whole family, together.”

 

“Then we’ll bring him along.” Jamos pulled her into a hug and kissed her hair. 

 

She couldn’t eat that day. She was too nervous. 

 

“Is that morning sickness finally coming around to bother you?” Jamos asked. 

 

“Maybe that’s it.” But no. She hadn’t been nauseous at all these past few weeks. She had thought maybe that meant she was having a girl this time since she’d been so queasy her first trimester with Kason. Now she wondered if it was a sign that something was wrong. 

 

That night when they went to bed Jamos whispered to her, “Tomorrow we get to see our baby.” And then he seemed to fall asleep easily. She stayed awake longer and then when she finally did fall asleep she had strange dreams.

 

The strangest featured her mother, just as she remembered her, with her dark hair hanging long over her shoulders and her beautiful face smiling. “Whatever happens tomorrow, it’s going to be okay,” Hadassa told her. 

 

Shara wanted her mother to say more, to stay and tell her what was going to happen. Those few words, however, seemed to calm her so that she slept soundly the rest of the night. 

 

“I dreamed about my mother last night.” She told her husband as they dressed to go over to the midwife’s office the next morning. “She said everything is going to be okay.” 

 

“Aye? Well, there you go. Nothing to worry about.” Jamos squeezed her shoulders encouragingly. “I bet she came to tell you because we’re having a girl and she wants us to name the baby after her.” 

 

“Jamie Hadassa?” Shara said, unsure. 

 

“Aye. Jamie Hadassa Blackwell.” He smiled. “You ready to go see her.”

 

“Aye.” She nodded. “Let’s go get Kase up.” 

 

…

 

“Well hey there, big guy!” The midwife greeted Kason and his parents as they entered her office.

 

“Say hello to Ms. Niamh, Kase.” Jamos and she chatted while Shara slipped into the refresher to change into a gown. 

 

When she emerged the midwife had her climb onto the table so they could get started. Niamh was quiet while she and both parents scanned the image looking for something reassuring. Shara knew there wouldn’t be much to see, a tiny little bean but hopefully with that little flash of a heartbeat.  _ Salt gods, please let us be able to see what we couldn’t hear yesterday _ , she prayed. 

 

“Shara and Jamos, I am truly sorry,” she said after seeing something that neither of them had been able to decipher. “It looks to me like the baby stopped developing at about 8 weeks.” 

 

“You mean it’s 8 weeks along. We got the dates wrong, Aye?” Jamos asked, still hanging on to hope.

 

“No.” Niamh said gently and then pointed out in greater detail. “Here’s the sack which had continued to grow a little bigger but inside… there’s no heartbeat, no movement. Eventually,” she said to Shara. “Your body will figure out that it’s not supporting a live fetus and you will naturally expel the tissue. Either that or there is a procedure…” 

 

Shara had stopped listening.  _ Expel the tissue? They were talking about her baby. Salt gods, she was having a miscarriage and her body didn’t even know it yet? _ She hated the term ‘miscarriage’. It sounded like she had done something wrong, like she had dropped her child. She didn’t ‘miss’ carry anything. Her baby was gone. She reached out for Kason and Jamos handed him over. At least she had her son. If she never had another child at least she had Kason. She held him tightly and as she did she closed her eyes and saw again the image in her mind of her mother from her dream. Hadassa was holding a tiny bundle in her arms. Little Jay was safe in her arms and not in any pain. 

 

“Did you hear that, Shara?” Jamos was asking her softly. He was heroically holding back his own tears. 

 

“No. No I didn’t. What did she say?” Shara wiped her cheeks and kissed Kason’s sweet head.

 

“Niamh thinks it would be best for you to go through with the procedure.” He explained. “They put you out for about an hour and when you wake up it’ll all be over. We won’t have to wait for things to, er…” his voice broke and he stroked Kason’s blond hair. “Come naturally.” 

 

“You should start your cycle again in a month or so and as long as you’re both feeling up to it you can start trying again.” Niamh informed them. 

 

“I… I don’t know,” Shara managed. 

 

Niamh nodded. “I’ll let you two talk about it. You can get dressed and go whenever you’re ready and just comm me later with your decision.” 

 

She left the room. But they weren’t ready to talk about anything. They just held each other and cried. 

 

…

 

Far away from the Hold, Hugo Bralykburn retired to his quarters on the  _ Dxun’s Fang  _ as they made their way back up the river. It was so good to be back on the water, especially in time for Talia’s tenth birthday. He’d been given a year off for good behavior just in time for the event and for a present he’d taken her on board as his midshipman for a trading voyage down south. She was thrilled. She’d served under Hugo’s most trusted captain during the four years he was on house arrest and he’d heard nothing but good things while she was home, but it was nothing compared to how she glowed when Hugo called her Midshipman Bralykburn. 

 

He’d been nervous about the promotion. Dominic was on his first voyage as midshipman when disaster struck and he was especially jumpy after not being on the water for so long. 

 

But everything had gone fine. They’d done their trading at one of the river villages and now they were on their way back to the Keep, with the ship and crew perfectly intact.   

 

The door’s hinges creaked and Hugo sighed. Well, not  _ perfectly.  _

 

“Evenin’,” Suzelle greeted him and shut the door behind her. 

 

Hugo rolled his eyes at his datapad. While they were in the fishing village along the river he and Talia were haggling with the fish merchant and Hugo was about to throw the man into the river for refusing to adjust his miserly price when the merchant’s sister shoved him aside, smiled at Hugo and said _ “Ignore him.”  _ From that point on, the bargaining had gone swimmingly and the woman, her name was Suzelle, pulled him aside while the trade goods were being loaded onto the ship and said:  _ “Your little girl needs a mother.”  _

 

_ “She had one,” Hugo snapped. “The very best. We lost her.”  _

 

_ “I don’t doubt it,” Suzelle gestured to Talia. “But she’s gettin’ older. There’ll be things she’ll want a mother for soon.” She shrugged. “I’d like the job.”  _

 

So he gave it to her. She was right, about things Talia would want a mother for looming on the horizon like huge, awkward clouds over Hugo’s head. If he didn’t have to have those discussions with her, then he was fine with that. He asked Talia her opinion on the situation and his daughter had just smirked at Suzelle and said “Aye, Papa.” 

 

He and Suzelle were married on the dock. He’d bought her flowers because Talia said he had to, and she’d acted like he’d given her the sun. She liked pretty things, and that was fine and dandy with Hugo because Talia liked her. She’d be a good stepmother for his little girl. And his wife. Whatever. He didn’t care about that part a bit, except when Suzelle stole his covers. 

 

Just then a notification popped up on his datapad and Hugo checked it out. It was a news report, well more of a gossip report that Suzelle must have installed on the thing, but the name Blackwell caught his attention. Last he heard Blackwhelp’s southern witch was supposed to be pregnant. What was it now, twins? 

 

He read further. 

 

No, it was not twins. 

 

There wasn’t going to be another Blackwell baby come autumn. 

 

Hugo burst out laughing. Well, if this didn’t beat all! Finally the galaxy was giving Jamos Blackwell the swift kick in the pants he deserved. Maybe now he and his beast rider whore would get off their high dalgos and grow up. It was about time. 

 

Suzelle raised an eyebrow from across the room. “What’re you laughin’ at?” 

 

Hugo threw his sheets to the wind. It wasn’t like he cared what she thought anyway. “It’s Jamos Blackwell and his wife. They were going to have a babe.” 

 

“What’s so funny ‘bout havin’ a babe?” 

 

“She lost it.” Hugo snickered. 

 

Suzelle froze and set down her holonovel. “She lost the babe?” 

 

“Aye.” 

 

“And you’re laughing?” She rose out of her seat and stalked over to him, hands on her hips. “They lost a child and you’re reactin’ like this?” 

 

“Aye, I --.” 

 

The slap came out of nowhere and almost knocked his head off his spine. Hugo actually felt his head go as far forward as it could before snapping back into its rightful position. 

 

Suzelle towered over him, looking like she was about ready to get him again with the backhand. “What are you doing laughing at those poor parents, you lout?” she bellowed. 

 

Hugo grabbed the back of his head. “D-did you just  _ hit  _ me?” 

 

She nodded. “Aye, and I’m gonna do it again if you don’t quit acting like a fambaa’s backside.” 

 

“Well maybe those two will grow up now,” he shot back. “Besides, it’s not like they lost a real kid or anything.” 

 

“Tell me.” Suzelle glowered at him. “When your Yanara told you that you were gonna be a father, how did you feel?” 

 

Hugo shut up. He was never going to admit it, but as soon as he’d known that Dominic and then Talia were on the way, they were as real and present in his life as if he was holding them in his arms already. Losing Dom was absolutely crushing; if something had happened to either of his children before he had gotten to chance to say hello, it would have only been worse.

 

Suzelle jabbed a finger at him. “I thought so.”

 

Hugo stared at her in shock while she sat down and went back to her datapad. Who in salt gods’ names did this woman think she was to smack him around like a mouthy kid? 

 

Like she could read his mind Suzelle turned around and gave him a look that made him forget his entire train of thought. “You are going to show your little girl how a real man acts,” she swore. “You will if it’s the last thing you do.” 

 

“And what makes you think you have something to say about how I raise Talia?” he sputtered. 

 

“You married me to be a mother for her. I’m just doin’ my job,” she fired back. “Got a problem with that, then comm a litigator.  But I don’t think you will.” 

 

And with that she opened the holobook on her datapad and began reading again, leaving Hugo to his shock. 

 

… 

 

Marlon eased his bedroom door open with his best seduction face and scanned the room for Lana. Usually around this time his wife would be in the ‘fresher taking a shower, or over at the window looking at the water, or by the hearth reading a book. All of these were prime places for Marlon to slowly walk up behind her and propose they postpone whatever she was doing.

 

But the ‘fresher was empty, as was Lana’s favorite chair, and no one blocked the view from the window. Instead Lana lay on one side of their bed, with Marlon’s two children occupying the other side, fast asleep. Dalla was starfished on the bed, taking up more space than Marlon thought a nearly six-year-old could occupy, and three-year-old Thias was flopped half on top of her and half on the foot of the bed, like a norcog. 

 

Marlon crawled up behind Lana and spooned against her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

 

Lana reached behind her and caressed his shoulder. “You have enough room?” 

 

“Mostly,” he wrapped his arms around Lana and settled into his less precarious position. “I didn't know they were here.”

 

“They missed their Mommy and Daddy,” she explained. “Fell asleep before you got here.” 

 

They were all exhausted emotionally and physically after the events of the past week. But life went on and maybe now that Shara's procedure was over and she was home recovering, they could all begin to return to some sort of normalcy. 

 

“They’re adorable.” He would never take his children for granted.

 

“Mmhm.”

 

Still some time alone with his wife would be nice. “Know what would be even more adorable?”

 

“What?”

 

Marlon leaned forward and whispered in her ear: “If we took them back to their rooms and got this place to ourselves.”

 

Lana laughed and stuck her face into her pillow to muffle the sounds 

 

“What?” She always went for the sexy whisper! What happened to  _ hey there hot stuff, let’s make a baby?  _

 

“This is your seduction?” She laughed when she came up for air. “This is you trying to get me in bed?”

 

Marlon went for the clever route. “No, this is me trying to get  _ them out _ of our bed.”

 

“Nope,” Lana shook her head, still chuckling. “Nope, I'm not waking up a sleeping child.”

 

“We won’t wake them up,” Marlon reasoned. “We’ll be like Jedi!” 

 

Lana hadn’t even bothered to stop shaking her head. “It’s not happening tonight, Nolram.” 

 

With that answer Marlon threw in the towel, but salt gods help him he was going to save face with his favorite weapon: humor. “Noooo,” he moaned melodramatically, drawing out the “no” as long as he could. “I was hoping for another baby!” 

 

Lana smirked. 

 

“What? What are you smiling about?” 

 

His wife slid her hand from his shoulder to his wrist, and then guided his hand from its resting place on her ribcage to her lower belly. 

 

“Because if I’m right, one’s already been made.” 

 

Marlon froze, and then sat up to look her in the eyes. “Really?” 

 

“I didn't want say anything, especially to Shara so soon after… but they'll have to hear about  some time and they’ll be trying again for another of their own. Maybe they’ll save some of the Brylks for this little one,” Lana smiled and patted his hand over her belly. “Grandmother said our third would be a great beast master.”

 

Marlon blinked, letting that sink in, and then kissed that smile off her before ducking down to kiss her belly. 

 

“Another baby,” he whispered, an enormous grin spreading over his face. “I bet you’re going to look just like your Mommy, and she and I both love you --.” 

 

Marlon was deliriously happy but the reality of what his brother and sister-in-law had just experienced also crashed over him. “We’ll keep it quiet for a while and figure out the best way to tell Jay and Shar.” _And till we make sure everything is alright. Salt gods, have mercy_.  


 

Lana nodded. 

 

Just then his daughter squirmed around in her sleep, kicking him with one of her little feet and missing Thias’ head by about a centimeter. 

 

Marlon winced. “We’re going to have to get a bigger bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is full of sorrow and joy and the two often overlap. Having something to celebrate when someone else is in pain can be incredibly hard. It’s a good thing that the Blackwell family are so close and they can stand by each other. But we’ll hear more about that later. For now comment please and thank you so much for reading!


	63. And Not A Soul To Hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dalla wishes she felt victorious. That would be easier than how she’s actually feeling. And pretty soon she’s going to get some news which makes her feel much, much worse. - LS

They cover Sanjay’s body with a black cloth Jamos found somewhere. The other northerners have already torn down the Rash banner from the main pole and hung Blackwell blue. It’ll only stay there until King Dendup gets back and they can raise his colors, but it still sends their message in the meantime: King Rash is dead. We’ve won.

 

Jamos taps her on the shoulder. “Chirn Bait, you don't have to stay with him anymore. He’s gone.”

 

“What do we do with the body?” She asks. If the Rashes have a family tomb she’s not sure interring Sanjay there would be a good idea. “Do we put him in the tomb, or in a grave in the jungle somewhere, or in the river? Do we bury him at sea so no one can find him?”

 

“I don't know.” Jamos rests his head in his hands. “The river sounds like the best idea.”

 

“While you were gone, he thought I was someone named Melaana. That picture you flipped, wasn't that the same person?”

 

“Aye,” Jamos confirms. “She was his sister.”

 

“No wonder he wanted to see her again.”

 

“Enough about him. How’s your father?” 

 

Dalla’s stomach sinks thinking about her father. “They were stabilizing him when I left. The nurse said it was just a matter of waiting for the bacta tank.” 

 

“That’s good to hear. When you said you were taking him to the medcenter I was worried. What happened to him?” 

 

“He was shot in the leg running after Elinor Harkon.” 

 

They both fall silent as the dead. 

 

“Where’s Glover?” 

 

“Hugo Bralykburn hauled him out of the gauntlet,” Jamos says. “They’re probably sitting somewhere or they’re in the comm room contacting Harkon Hall.” 

 

Poor Adria, having to get this news through the comm twice now. “I need to contact the rebels out in the Highlands. Tell them we won.” 

 

“They’ll be glad to hear it. Do you want me to --.” 

 

“I’ll go into the other room. I’d rather not do it with him still here,” she gestures to Sanjay’s covered body. 

 

He nods agreement. “I’ll stay here and comm your aunt.” 

 

“Alright.” She exits through the door Sanjay must have crawled through on his way to wherever he was going. Unsurprisingly, it opens into the throne room. 

 

Dalla shuts the door behind her and walks up the carpet to the throne. She may have hated the man who sat here, but the room itself commands reverence with its grand design, practically radiating power. She pauses at the foot of the throne to examine the carbon scoring staining its back. This must be where Sanjay was shot. 

 

_ Might as well place the comm.  _ She enters Steela’s frequency and lifts the device to her lips, already smiling in anticipation. Steela’s going to be thrilled when she hears, even if they’re still mopping up droids in the Highlands. Just to know that they  _ won  _ will make her day. 

 

The comm makes a beeping sound like a busy signal. Dalla tries again, but it makes the same sound before shutting off entirely. 

 

Okay, that’s odd but she brushes it off. Steela’s comm probably was damaged in the fighting, so she tries Lux’s. They’re usually in close proximity, so he can just hand off the comm when she’s done speaking with him.  

 

There’s a crackle over the comm and Lux picks up.  _ “Hello?”  _ He sounds a hundred years old. 

 

“Lux, it's Dalla. I tried comming Steela, but there must be a problem with her comlink.” She takes a deep breath. “I'm in the throne room. Sanjay Rash is dead. The city’s ours. We...we won! Will you give the comm to Steela so I can tell her?”

 

Silence. 

 

“Lux?”

 

_ “I-I can't.” _

 

“What do you mean?”

 

_ “Dalla, Steela, she…she...” _ He trails off.  _ “There was an accident.” _

 

Dalla’s stomach sinks. “Lux, stop it. This isn't funny.”

 

Lux doesn't hear her.  _ “One of the gunships crashed into a cliff face Steela was standing on. It crumbled, she slid down and Ahsoka tried to lift her off with the force. But the gunship was still operational. We didn't know. The cannon, it, it went off and shot her. Steela --.” _

 

“I’m closer to the medcenter than you are. I’ll tell them you’re coming; they can prep intensive care or the operating room or a bacta tank. Just keep doing whatever you are and get to the medcenter as fast as you can.”

 

Lux sobs.  _ “Dalla, she’s dead.”  _

 

Dalla sits down hard in a chair to the left of the throne. “No,” she shakes her head. “No, that’s not possible. She told me she’s fallen off dalgos and rupings before, she’s tough. She can’t be --.” 

 

A gut-wrenching sob tears on Lux’s side of the transmission. It’s Saw. And Saw would never joke or kid about this…

 

“Oh gods.” She shrinks further into the chair. “Oh gods, no.” 

 

_ “We’re coming back to Iziz now to take Ahsoka to the medcenter,”  _ Lux sniffs.  _ “It’s going to be a few hours.”  _

 

“I’ll meet you there.” She bends over to suppress the empty feeling in her stomach. “Make some preparations or-or something.”

 

_ “Thank you for updating us. I just wish I had good news in…”  _ a sob breaks his sentence.  _ “I'm sorry Dalla, I can't -- I’ll see you at the medcenter. Goodbye.” _

 

“Bye, Lux.” She waits for him to end the comm before she disconnects, doubles over in the chair, and bursts out sobbing. 

 

…

 

Far from Iziz within Blackhold’s sturdy stone walls, Shara hears the chime from the comm room and hurries to answer it before her kids can get into the room. After Lana answered Sanjay’s call earlier today she doesn’t want to take any chances. As she reaches for the activation button she braces herself to shout down whoever’s on the other end, be it Sanjay or anyone else. 

 

The projection focuses into the likeness of a woman in scrubs. 

 

Shara blinks. “Can I help you?” 

 

_ “I’m from Iziz Municipal Medcenter. Are you Mrs. Shara Blackwell? _

 

“I am. Why do you ask?”

 

_ “You and your husband are listed as Marlon Blackwell’s emergency contacts. I’m calling to inform you that he’s been admitted.” _

 

“What?” Shara sputters in disbelief. “Marlon’s in the medcenter? What happened?” 

 

The nurse scrolls through a datapad, probably checking Marlon’s chart.  _ “He was shot in the leg and we’ve admitted him while he waits for the bacta tank.”  _ She anticipates Shara’s next question before they’ve left her lips.  _ “He’s unconscious so I can’t put him on the comm.” _

 

“Alright. Please comm me if you have any updates,” Shara says when another worry strikes her. “Wait! Do you have any patients named Jamos Blackwell or Dalla Blackwell?” 

 

_ “Mrs. Blackwell, I can’t share that information with you.”  _

 

“I’m listed on their medical records as an emergency contact. Are they --?” 

 

_ “If anyone were to check in and you were listed as their contact, we’d let you know as soon as possible,”  _ the nurse says cryptically. Shara reads between the lines: Jamos and Dalla aren’t there. That does little for her concerns. There are a lot of things that can happen during a siege that don’t warrant a trip to the medcenter. 

 

“I understand. Thank you,” she says, hangs up on the nurse and immediately enters her husband’s frequency. 

 

Jamos answers after a pause, looking exhausted and drained. He brightens a little seeing her.  _ “Hello, Shar.”  _

 

Shara cuts to the chase. “Jamos! Are you and Dalla alright?” 

 

_ “We’re fine,”  _ he says.  _ “We could be better, but we’re fine. We’re not hurt. Shara, he ... he’s gone.”  _

 

“What?” Shara’s hand flies to her mouth. “No! I was just on the comm with the medcenter! They said he was waiting for the bacta tank. He can’t be --!” 

 

_ “The med -- no, no. Marlon’s fine. It's Sanjay. Sanjay’s gone.” _

 

Shara pauses, overwhelmed with relief that it’s not Marlon and not sure how to feel that it’s Sanjay. “In the light of the salt gods,” she says quietly. It seems like the only good thing to say.  __

 

_ “In the light of the salt gods. We’re not sure what to do for him, for the burial. We’ve taken the palace; the droid army’s gone. There's no one left to handle the cleanup except us.” _

 

“I'm coming.” Shara makes a snap decision. “We’re all coming down to Iziz. I can help with the cleanup, the kids can be with their cousins again. And Cade can’t go another standard second without his father and sister and brother.” 

 

_ “Shara, are you --?”  _

 

“That wasn’t a question. We’re coming.” 

 

_ “I love you so much.”  _ He smiles and Shara has to wonder if he’s still delirious from the battle.  _ “I found a statue in the courtyard. I have to find a way to bring it home.”  _

 

Aye, definitely delirious. “Absolutely not, Jamos. You leave it right where it is.” Shara doesn’t even want to know what that statue is, though she has a feeling she already does. 

 

Jamos’ face falls. _ “As my lady commands.” _

 

The title jogs Shara’s memory. “Is Dalla there?”

 

_ “She's in the other room taking a comm from the rebels. It doesn't sound like good news; I thought I heard her crying. She found Sanjay. Sat with him while he died.” _

 

“Check on her for me, will you?” Whatever Sanjay said or did in his final moments, it couldn’t have been easy to watch.

 

_ “I will when she comes out.” _

 

“I’ll get the kids ready to go and call about a cloudhopper.” Thank the salt gods she still has General Tandin’s comm number. “We’ll be down as soon as possible and I’ll comm you when we leave.” 

 

_ “Thank you, Shara.” _

 

…

 

By the time she can’t summon any more tears Dalla’s joints have gone stiff from being doubled over in the chair for so long. She stands, bending her knees a few times to limber them up. 

 

_ Why is that even there, anyway? Is it for an advisor? Is it for -- no, no way. It has to be for an advisor,  _ she decides, eyeballing the chair. Thinking about it keeps her mind off what happened in the Highlands. 

 

She slowly makes her way out of the throne room and into the chamber where Jamos is still sitting vigil over Sanjay’s body until someone comes to get him. He stands like he’s been waiting for her. “Do you want to talk about it, Chirn Bait?” 

 

“I’m going to the medcenter.” That’s where she told Lux she’d meet them, and she needs to see her father. She hasn’t heard anything about him since she left the medcenter.

 

Jamos doesn’t pursue his question. “Okay. Tell your father I hope he feels better soon. And if either of you need anything, you know where to find me.” 

 

“Thanks, Uncle Jamos.” Dalla gives him a thin smile and hurries out of the room, trying not to look at Sanjay’s body or burst into tears again. 

 

Someone else further down the hall has already lost that battle. If Dalla had any more tears Glover Harkon’s anguished sobs would surely bring them on again. 

 

Hugo Bralykburn stands in the hallway in front of the room the Harkons have taken over, a holoprojection just fading away when Dalla rounds the corner. 

 

“Who was that?” Not that it’s any of her business, but Dalla doesn’t trust Hugo as far as she can throw him. 

 

Hugo scowls at her. “I was telling my Talia what happened to Elinor so these two wouldn’t have to.” He gestures to the room. “It’s what in-laws do.” 

 

That makes sense. “I never took you for a philanthropist.” 

 

“Don’t start now. This doesn’t mean I like any of you. But nobody should have to watch their kid die.” His face darkens. “I know.”

 

Dalla remembers a story her father told her, from when she was just a baby.  _ Your aunt saved the  _ Polaris _ from that terrible storm. But not everyone was so lucky. Hugo Bralykburn’s wife, his son… _

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

“Nothing you can do,” he says gruffly. “I already told Harkon Hall. Got her ready to go back to the salt gods. Hard part’s over.” He changes the topic. “You’re heading to the medcenter for your father.” 

 

“I haven’t heard from him since I dropped him off.” 

 

He nods to her. “Don't worry about these two. I’ve got them.”

 

That’s as much as they’re going to get from each other, and they know it. Dalla nods back and leaves the palace the way she came in: down the hall, through the gardens, past the Aunt Shara statue, and out the south gate.  _ It’s going to take forever to get these back in working order for King Dendup. Steela can handle it though, she’s really good at delegating jobs. She’s going to be such a great Lady when -- oh.  _

 

Dalla banishes the thought before it can make her cry again, sets her gaze on the medcenter at the end of the alley, and numbly walks toward it. Getting to her father is the only thing that makes sense right now. 

 

She follows the signs to the medical/surgical ward and walks up to the nurse’s station. 

 

“Excuse me,” she says. “I’m looking for Marlon Blackwell. Can you tell me which room he’s in?” 

 

The nurse looks up from her work and almost drops her datapad. “Dxun!” she cries, jumps to her feet and practically teleports around the counter. “Sit down, hon. Tysha, get the med droid,” she orders, snapping on a pair of gloves. “Where is it?” 

 

Dalla takes a step back. “I’m sorry?” 

 

“Sit,” the nurse repeats with a matronly authority Dalla automatically obeys. “What happened? Where is it?” 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

 

“She’s in shock,” the nurse mutters and peels back Dalla’s torn sleeve to expose the cut on her upper arm. “Is this it? No, that can’t be it. That wouldn’t get this much blood on you. Where’s your wound?” 

 

“My wound?” Dalla repeats while another nurse zooms over and assists the first. They turn her arms over to check them and she sees it. Between the man whose femoral artery she slashed, the man who killed One-Eye, the carnage at the gauntlet, Marlon, and Sanjay, she’s covered in blood. “It isn’t mine.”  

 

“What?” 

 

“This isn’t my blood.” Now that she knows it’s there she’s blown away by how much there is. “I was in the siege; it all belongs to other people.” 

 

The nurses step back, exuding relief. “Cancel the page,” the first says. “Good gods girl, you scared me. Coming up to the counter perfectly calm and looking like you walked out of a slasher holo.” 

 

Aye, she can see how that would be alarming. “I came to see my father. His name is Marlon Blackwell and he was admitted for a blaster shot to the leg. Which room is he in?” 

 

“The important thing for you to know is it’s a room with a ‘fresher,” the nurse asserts. “You need to get cleaned up before you see anyone. I’m not having you track gods-know-what all over this floor.” 

 

“But my father --.” 

 

“He’s in the bacta tank.” The nurse ushers her to a room a few doors down. Sure enough, the bed is empty. “And your ‘fresher awaits. We’ll find you something to wear; just throw what you’ve got on into the biohazard bin.” 

 

There’s no room for argument with this woman, even if the whole thing knocks Dalla off-kilter. She nods.

“Good. And if you need anything, my name’s Sal. Okay?”

 

“Okay. Thank you,” Dalla replies and shuts the door. 

 

It should feel great to take a shower, since she’s caked in sweat and dirt and enough blood to terrify a veteran nurse. But with no task for her to concentrate on, there’s nothing to keep her from thinking about Steela. 

 

_ She would have been so happy we won.  _ The shower reopens the slash on her arm, blessedly drawing her attention. She can just sense Steela in the other room, waiting for her to finish getting cleaned up so they can go out for that drink she promised the last time they saw each other. 

 

Dalla sticks her face into the stream of water so she can pretend she’s not crying. 

 

Ahsoka was right back at base. The only reason Dalla wasn’t reacting to Miranda’s death was because she was in survival mode. And since she’s no longer in survival mode, everything she previously held back comes crashing down over her like a storm surge. Miranda, the execution, her father being in the medcenter, watching Sanjay die, and now Steela. 

 

_ Pull yourself together,  _ she orders herself.  _ You are the Lady of the North, not some whimpering girl.  _

 

Except, well, that she is. She’s a teenage girl whose two friends died in close to two weeks.  

 

So Dalla decides that no one will hear her crying over the shower, and stays there until the water gets cold.

 

…

 

While she was in the shower the nurse left Dalla a pair of bright pink scrubs printed with cartoon cognines. Dono would have a stroke if she saw them, but at least they’re clean.

 

She settles into a chair next to the empty bed, and waits. 

 

Sal the nurse wheels an unconscious Marlon in a few minutes after she emerges.  and Dalla scrambles to her feet. “Father!” 

 

“He’s still sleeping off the sedatives,” Sal informs her. “But he should be awake in a few minutes and you can talk to him then. Those scrubs fit you okay?” 

 

“Aye,” Dalla tugs at the scrub top. “Thank you for getting them for me.” 

 

“Sure beats you tracking microbes all over creation.” The nurse flags an assistant from the hallway and together they transfer Marlon from the gurney into his bed. After they get him settled she turns back to Dalla. “You said you were in the siege. Do you need a med droid?” 

 

“No.” Except for that slash, which she can fix by herself with a bacta patch, she’s unhurt. “Is he okay? It’s just a flesh wound, right?”

 

“It's a weight-bearing limb so he will have a longer recovery time with physical therapy most likely. But there wasn't any damage to the bone or major blood vessels. He’s lucky. Still, we can't be sure of his mental status until he wakes up.”

 

“And that’s just a matter of waiting?”

 

“It is.” Sal points to the chair Dalla was just in. “Why don't you sit down? You don't look well.”

 

“I’m fine, ma’am. Really, I am.”

 

“No, you are not. You’re getting a full lab work up and an armful of booster hypos. Gods only know what diseases were in that blood.”

 

Dalla reluctantly sits down. “Aye, ma’am.”

 

Sal places a hand on her good shoulder. “Is there someone I can call for you?”

 

She shakes her head. “No one who can come.”

 

“Okay,” Sal pats her shoulder. “I don't know what happened during that siege, but whatever it was you two got through it. You and him both. You hear me?”

 

Dalla nods and a groan comes from Marlon. She startles but Sal gestures for her to stand back while she checks him over. “M’lord? Are you awake?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Marlon grunts and moves around in his bed. “How’d I get here?”

 

“You were brought in by some northerners,” Sal answers and beckons Dalla forward. “Lord Blackwell, do you recognize this young lady?”

 

Marlon stares at her, befuddled.

 

“No,” he says, and Dalla’s heart sinks.

 

But Marlon’s confused expression dissolves in an instant and his face slowly lights up in an impish grin, a grin Dalla hasn't seen since her mother died. 

 

“My daughter,” Marlon says, beaming, “Wouldn’t be caught dead wearing cartoon cognines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like the Ned Stark of Onderon is back and glad his Sansa made it through the battle unscathed as well. If only that were true for the Tamer of Rupings.


	64. Interlude: A Mother's Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DK and I are taking a break from the main story for the holidays, so that we might make it through (mostly) unscathed. To tide you over however, here’s the event which kicks off one half of this story, about two years before Gen 2 - LS

He was king. After endless scheming, after doing everything short of putting a sword through Dendup’s neck, Sanjay was king. 

 

Really, it was for the best. Dendup was old, and he didn’t have an heir to speak of. Last Sanjay heard, when he was still playing the part of the loyal advisor, was that the old man planned to pass the throne onto a second cousin. A second cousin who was currently a fugitive criminal! He couldn’t sit back and let  _ that  _ happen. Sanjay was younger. He gave Onderon a good fifty years, at least. Taking the throne was the right thing to do. 

 

Well, that and he liked the way the crown looked on his head. For the first time in his life, Sanjay was powerful. He was the king, and the king could do as he liked. He didn’t have to answer to his advisors, or any of the Liege Lords, or his mother. He had to answer to Count Dooku, but that was only because the Count had lent his droids to stabilize the planet. He needed to check on their progress every once in awhile, and every time Sanjay assured him Onderon was well in hand. He was on the comm for five minutes, maximum, and then he was back to being king. No one could tell him what to do now. 

 

His office door opened without a knock and Sanjay sat up a little straighter. 

 

Well, there was one person…

 

Sanda Rash motored into his office in her repulsorchair, but Sanjay had no delusions about his mother’s supposed frailty. It was her idea to seat him on the throne and her advice which had gotten him there. She’d never been wrong, chair or no chair, and Sanjay was willing to bet on her maintaining that streak.

 

“Mother,” he cleared the data pads from his desk to give her his full attention. “How are you today? What brings you here?”

 

“I'm well,” Mother didn't answer the second question until she’d firmly situated herself in front of his desk and sized him up. That wasn't a good sign. 

 

He decided to sniff out the answer another way. “Are you planning to throw another party you need my input on?” 

 

“In a way,” she met his eyes, and then before he could brace himself she announced: “I found a wife for you.” 

 

Sanjay resisted the urge to slam his face into the desk. 

 

“Mother…” He didn’t even know how many times she’d done this before, introducing him to someone or other’s daughter and shipping the two of them off on dinners that went south before their salads arrived. None of the women measured up -- one too boisterous, another too meek, another profoundly dull. Well, Sanjay supposed she wasn’t  _ profoundly  _ dull. She just wasn’t right. None of them were right. They weren’t Shara. “Mother, we’ve been over this before --.” 

 

“This time it’s not negotiable.” Mother didn’t budge. “You are a king, and a king needs a queen. You need to produce an heir for the crown and for House Rash. I know you want a child more than anything, Sanjay. You don’t simply want one, you  _ need  _ one if you want to keep everything we’ve worked for over all these years.” 

 

“And I’ll get a child,” he promised. “I just haven’t found the right woman.”  

 

“I have. She’s a suitable queen and she’s your best chance for producing a child, but we don’t have much time. We need to act now before she’s snapped up by someone else.” 

 

Sanjay wished he could say he hadn’t heard that before. He boredly rested his head in his hand and asked “And who is this perfect queen?” Some baron’s near-spinster daughter? A social-climbing vassal like his mother? Some beast rider with half a connection to the Kiras?

 

“Dalla Blackwell.” 

 

Sanjay lifted his head from his hands. “Dalla Blackwell?” 

 

His mother nodded. 

 

Admittedly, Sanjay could brush up on northern genealogy but he did know this much: Shara had married into the Blackwell family, and it was too much to hope that she’d changed her first name. Especially because he’d heard that name, Dalla, before. But from where? It was a common name, but he’d heard it somewhere specific. In the palace when he was asking Mina about the Separatist cause, while she was explaining why she had to leave early.  _ I’m sorry Lord Rash, but I need to go. The Blackwells just commed; they were in a terrible crash. Lady Lana didn’t make it and their daughter Dalla was hurt… _

 

“Dalla Blackwell,” he repeated, praying he was wrong. “Marlon Blackwell’s daughter, and Shara’s niece. Who was injured in a shipwreck two years ago.”

 

Mother shrugged. “She isn’t pretty, not in the least, but pretty faces don’t produce children. She’s young and healthy and can give you the heir you need. Take her to the medcenter if you want; they can make her to your liking.” 

 

But Sanjay had other fish to fry: “Marlon Blackwell’s  _ fifteen-year-old  _ daughter?” 

 

“Yes, that’s the one.” She noticed Sanjay debating whether or not to grab the waste receptacle to yack in and scoffed. “Don’t look so scandalized, Sanjay!” 

 

Sanjay made a strangled sound. “Mother, I’m thirty-six!” 

 

“Your father was thirty-seven and I was seventeen,” she argued. “We had a workable marriage, and more importantly I gave him children. Something you need to do.” 

 

Considering he was one of the children in question, Sanjay didn’t know how to argue with that.

 

“All you need to do is fetch this girl,” she continued. “Have her brought to the palace and take her to wife. You had no problem before, with that lowborn trash.” 

 

Sanjay jumped. “I loved Shara!” 

 

“Love has nothing to do with it and it’s about time you forgot her anyway. This is a highborn, suitable queen. Wed her, bed her, and get a child by her. Once you have that, you’ll forget all about that beast rider.” 

 

He would never forget about Shara, not if he had all the women in the galaxy. 

 

“We can arrange for the militia to retrieve her from Blackhold tomorrow,” Mother continued. “She’ll be upset when she arrives, but if you talk to her...” 

 

“No.” 

 

Mother blinked. “Excuse me?” 

 

_ “No,”  _ Sanjay repeated, shocked that it was coming out of his mouth. “We’re not doing anything while this girl is underage.” 

 

“Sanjay --.” 

 

“You married when you were seventeen, and she’ll do the same. Mother, it’s safer this way. She’s a child, think of the risks of carrying a baby at this age. All sorts of awful things could happen.” He wasn’t a doctor, but he was praying to all the gods that he was right and that Mother would listen to reason about her potential grandchild’s welfare. “No. In two years, we can talk to Lord Blackwell. But until then, I don’t even want to hear that you’ve commed the family about this.” Hopefully in two years Dalla would grow so that having a baby in her belly wouldn’t snap her like a twig.  _ That and Shara won’t think I’m a predator,  _ he added to himself. 

 

Mother pinched her lips together in a sour line. “If I hear even a rumor of Lord Blackwell looking to betroth her elsewhere, I’ll send the agents immediately.” 

 

That was the best he was going to get with his mother. “That won’t come to pass.” 

 

He breathed a sigh of relief when she wheeled out of the room, thanking the universe that Mother wasn’t going to send people after the girl tomorrow and sweating that she wasn’t backing down from the proposition. 

 

_ It wouldn’t be awful if she was of age. And if I wed Shara’s niece, I’d have a legitimate excuse to see her again… _

 

He rubbed his temples. He needed to get out of here and clear his head in the one place his mother didn’t touch, where he could sit and think in peace. He always felt better in his studio. 

 

When he finally made it there after wading through staff and advisors but thankfully not his mother the first thing he did was sit himself down in front of his easel and gaze at his most recent painting. Shara, or at least the model whose features he’d altered to look like her, was positively radiant in a red gown. Gods, he wished he’d had Shara pose for him more when they were married! She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the universe. No one could ever compare to her. 

 

With a sigh he removed the canvas from the easel and replaced it with a fresh one, then bent to prepare his palette. His mother wasn’t one to forget an order, even over two years. Like it or not, sooner or later, he was marrying this Blackwell girl. He might as well get used to the idea, and that started with having a mental image of his new wife. Maybe having a physical likeness would help the process.

 

When he was finished he took a step back to examine his handiwork and his stomach sank to his feet. 

 

The girl in the picture looked like Lana Blackwell’s head glued onto Shara’s body. That was understandable; he didn’t know what Dalla looked like, but he had seen her mother. Of course they would look alike. And Shara’s body -- that was a reflection of desire, he’d admit. But worse than any of that was Dalla’s facial expression. She looked so terribly sad, like she was going to burst into tears. Gods, Sanjay didn’t think he could look at a face that sad the rest of his life and know he was the cause of her pain. 

 

He set his palette down and extended a finger toward the girl’s cheek, stopping a hair’s breadth from the paint so he wouldn’t smear it. 

 

“Don’t worry,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “I’ll be a good husband. I’ve learned from the past; I’ll treat you well and I’ll give you a child. I...I promise.” 

 

_ Saying that to a painting is easy,  _ he thought.  _ I guess I’ll just have to practice enough so I can say it to her in person, because gods know no one else will tell her anything of the sort. I don’t want to see her like this because of me.  _

 

He sighed and laid the still-wet canvas along the wall to dry. He had two years to practice before he had to worry about Dalla Blackwell or a child of his own. Right now, his biggest worry was a heavy heart. 

 

He knew how to fix that. Sanjay grabbed his sketchbook and started on another likeness of Shara. Maybe he should give her a gold dress this time.

 

…

 

He couldn’t stay hidden in his studio forever. Duty called, he had a planet to rule, and the longer he stayed in his studio now the later he’d have to stay up at night to get all his work done. He liked to spend some time painting before he went to sleep, but he never worked well at ungodly hours. Instead he dragged himself back to his office and wrangled his advisors in to discuss the state of affairs in various parts of the kingdom. 

 

He started with Iziz, as he usually did because it took the most time, and then started working into the jungles and finally… “And the north?” 

 

The advisors blinked. Usually he paid no more attention to the north than to the light switch. 

 

“They’re still strong after Lady Blackwell’s death, sire,” one said. “In fact, the brother’s wife is going to have another child.”

 

Sanjay sat straight up. “Really? Shara is pregnant?” 

 

The advisor nodded, clearly confused. “Yes your Highness, they made the announcement a few weeks ago.” 

 

_ Shara...pregnant.  _

 

He didn’t listen to the rest of his advisors’ status report, even though he probably should. All he could think about was Shara and her baby. Gods, how he’d wanted that with her! 

 

It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Shara hated it in the north. She’d never liked the cold, she’d always worn socks to bed and snuggled up with him to ward it off. Surely a northern winter would make her long for her first husband’s, her real husband’s, warm embrace.

 

Sanjay felt himself slipping further into the daydream.  _ Once Shara decided she’d had enough of the cold, she told those Blackwells she was going home, and they descended on her. They threw her into Jamos Blackwell’s bedchamber and kept her prisoner there with no other purpose than to produce heirs for the family. So far she’d given them four but it was never enough, especially since one boy had been defective, slow, no doubt because every northern healer was a quack.  _

 

_ He’d send the militia to rescue her instead of after her teenaged niece, and she’d sprint down the docks into his waiting arms when she arrived in Iziz.  _

 

_ “Oh Sanjay, it was awful!” the Shara of his dreams sobbed into his shoulder while he comforted her. “They stole me away and kept me locked in the Hold to give children to their second son. I thought he loved me once … but to him I was only a broodmare!”  _

 

_ “I’ll have all their heads,” Sanjay swore, patting her back. “No one should treat someone amazing as you as a broodmare.”  _

 

_ And then they would go back to the palace and he’d show her how he’d never stopped loving her through all the years. They would renew their wedding vows, for real this time, with all of Iziz to see. And he’d raise her child as his own. It would be a girl, he decided. And her name would be Melaana.  _

 

“Sire?” 

 

Sanjay snapped back to reality and found his advisors staring at him and his page of notes. He looked down. Just as he suspected, it was covered in doodles. 

 

“Thank you,” he said, covering the doodles with his hand. “Your information is valued.” Especially the tidbit about Shara. He didn’t care about any of the rest. 

 

When they finally left his alone he looked at his doodles. They were of him and Shara from his dream, embracing at their reunion. He quickly folded the flimsi and stuck it in his pocket in case his mother chanced to come by. 

 

His mother. Finally, a good idea arose at the thought of her. Whenever Mother was stressed, she bought something. She called it retail therapy. Well, Sanjay decided he needed some retail therapy of his own. Except he wasn’t going to buy something silly like clothes. No, he had something a bit more specific in mind. Something that would last. 

 

…

 

“Bernard, do you believe you could accomplish this?”

 

The young sculptor examined the sketches Sanjay had laid in front of him once again and nodded enthusiastically. “I can,” he promised. Sanjay didn’t expect any less, the young man’s willing attitude and love for art was the reason he’d caught Sanjay’s attention in the first place, and the reason he’d personally taken him under his wing. If anyone could do Shara justice, it was Sanjay’s own student. 

 

“Good,” Sanjay said. “I’d like for you to use marble, if at all possible.” 

 

“Of course, your Highness. Only the best will do for this sculpture. She’s beautiful. Who is she?” 

 

Bernard was too young to remember the scandal fifteen years ago, so Sanjay simply said: “She was the wife of my youth.” 

 

Bernard gave him a compassionate look. “And you were separated by some tragedy?” he asked with such drama that Sanjay could practically hear the orchestra in the background. 

 

Sanjay used to talk like that, too. “Yes, exactly that,” he agreed and patted the youth’s shoulder. “A tragic accident tore her away from me.”  _ First my sister’s death soured her against me and then her father’s drove the final nail in the coffin.  _

 

His student hung his head. “It will be my greatest work to bring honor to her memory, your Highness.” 

 

_ Or a proof of how I have always loved her when I bring her home to be my queen.  _ “My teacher told me that the greatest growth came from stretching ourselves beyond our comfort zones. I know you’d rather paint than sculpt, and I appreciate your undertaking of such a momentous task.” 

 

Bernard nodded earnestly “Of course, your Highness. Anything you ask, I’ll create for you.” 

 

“And I’ll be happy to help with any of it.” That was what Balthazar did for him, and Sanjay believed in paying it forward. “I look forward to seeing your work.”

 

…

 

The last lesson they had together was held two years later in the palace gardens, in front of the statue of Shara. Bernard assembled the pieces of the ship in a bottle that they’d painted together, and then Sanjay held the bottle still while he pulled the strings to lift the miniature sails after they’d slid it in. 

 

“You said this was a present, your Highness?” Bernard asked, admiring the completed project. 

 

“Yes, for my new wife.” The countdown had begun, Sanjay had already sent General Tandin north to fetch Dalla Blackwell. He'd be married to her within a fortnight.

 

Bernard whistled. “She's a lucky lady.”

 

“I suppose so.” Sanjay didn't really believe that. Not since he planned to give Dalla the ship in a bottle on their wedding night while getting her drunk on the most potent wine he could find. 

 

“Whyever not?” Bernard asked. “Not to boast, Sire, but this is exquisite! Look at the detail; you can practically hear the waves.”

 

Sanjay wasn't going to hear much more than wine splashing into a goblet and his own voice as he explained things to his wife. For the hundredth time, he hoped she wouldn't cry. The wine would make everything easy, but before he could get her drunk this present would have to work. 

 

“It's beautiful,” he agreed. “She’ll love it if she has even the slightest appreciation for art.” Not wanting to think about Dalla any longer he changed the subject and gestured to the Shara statue. “I would like to see you do more works like this sculpture here. Maybe a bust of the same woman for the studio.”

 

“Of course, sire.” Bernard nodded. “And I’d be happy to sculpt your new queen too, when she arrives.”

 

_ I don't want any art of Dalla! All I want is Shara. She's all I  _ ever  _ wanted, and now I’ve had my general take her niece. She must hate me now. Dalla definitely hates me. Everyone hates me, except Bernard!  _

 

He would never question the youth’s devotion. He loved their lessons together, and their long discussions about art. They were the bright spots in all his recent worry about the rebels and the Blackwells. 

 

He had an idea. “Son, will you do me a favor?”

 

Bernard perked up at being called son. “Anything, your Highness!”

 

“My wife,” Sanjay drummed his fingers. “She’s young, about your age, and she’s terribly nervous about our marriage. It's the case of bride jitters from haran. If I bring her to one of our lessons, maybe as our model, then perhaps you could talk to her and get her to realize that I’m not a monster? That I want to be a good husband? I’m going to tell her of course, but you’re her peer. It might help her settle in.”

 

Bernard’s face softened and he nodded. “Of course I will,” he said. “And not just because you’re my king, but because I know it’s true. You talk to me about art and about my schooling, and you wrote me that reference letter last spring. You’re a good person, and if she doesn’t see that then I’ll do my best to help her see what I see.”

 

“And what do you see?” 

 

“The best teacher I ever had.” 

 

If Sanjay was a certain book character, this was the part where his heart grew three sizes. 

 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice warm with emotion. “Thank you so very much. Now, back to our lesson.” 


	65. Portrait of a Happy Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the northern sea and Blackhold is still a tumult of emotions with Shara and Jamos’s loss and Marlon and Lana’s announcement. Oh, and we have a visitor on the way! We return you to your regularly scheduled chapter. ~ DK

“'Course Ness and I never experienced anythin’ like what you and Jamos have been through,” Maris offered her condolences, “but I'm sure it must just be awful.”

 

“It hasn’t been easy. Thank you, Maris.” Shara took a sip of her weak ale. There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t have a drink but it still felt wrong. Nothing felt right. She wondered if it ever would again. 

 

Jamos had told her it would be good for her to get out and spend some time with her friend. She had hardly left the Hold for more than her appointment with Niamh after the procedure to make sure that everything was back in working order. It was. She knew that for sure now with the return of her cycle. 

 

She didn’t want to be here at the pub. She wanted to be back in their wing of the Hold with her husband and her son. Even Kason was getting a little tired of all the attention Momma was giving him, though. And besides, Maris had said she had received something for Shara in the post. So Shara was making the effort. 

 

“Here it is.” Maris brought out the flimzy envelope and handed it to her. The note had come from Bralyk Keep of all places and the address had been inked in a woman's handwriting. Someone named Suzelle had signed for both she and Hugo.

 

“Hadn't you heard?” Maris asked the surprised recipient.  “But I suppose you've been distracted with everything. Hugo's got himself a new wife.”

 

Shara read the note silently to herself:

 

_ You don’t know me and I know your family hasn’t had the greatest relations with my husband but I just wanted you to know that you have our deepest condolences. Hugo as you know lost his son and I also years ago was engaged to another man and lost his child before it had the chance to be born into the world. My father and brothers sent him away when there was nothing to keep us together any longer. Only now am I finally able to experience the joys of motherhood with Hugo’s sweet daughter, Talia. I understand that you have a young son and I wish you all the happiness of watching him grow and hope that he will bring you some comfort in this dark time.  _

 

The letter was signed, “ _ Suzelle Flint-Bralykburn _ .” 

 

“What’d she say?” Maris tried to get a look at the flimzy sheet as Shara folded it away and blinked back tears. 

 

“She sounds very nice.” Shara smiled genuinely, already composing a reply in her mind. “Probably, she’ll be a good influence on Hugo.” 

 

“Salt gods know he could use it.” The barmaid was relieved that the note had put her friend in better spirits though a little disappointed that she hadn’t been able to see the contents for herself. 

 

Shara shrugged and took another sip of her ale. “He has his faults but he does seem to be a good father. He wouldn’t have done… what he did if he wasn’t upset about his children, the one he lost and the one he still has to provide for.”

 

She expected for Maris to have a witty comeback but her friend seemed distracted by something across the pub. 

 

Maris frowned worriedly. “Don't look now, Shara, but that gentleman over there has been starin’ at you all afternoon. It's startin' to give me the jeebies.” 

 

Shara glanced back in the direction Maris indicated. The man in question, who was quite definitely staring, seemed familiar to her for some reason. 

 

“You want me to have Ness see what his problem is?”

 

“No, that's alright,” Shara assured her and she stood from her seat. 

 

She walked toward the stranger and asked him, “I know you, don't I?”

 

The man, who also stood, was shorter than Shara herself. He had dark curly hair and a beard and his smile was triumphant. “You look just like your mother. You have your father’s coloring, yes, but Hadassa shines through your features.” 

 

That was all the confirmation Shara needed. “You're the artist from the Fete. You painted her… and me when I was a little girl.”

 

“Just so.” He nodded humbly. “My name is Balthazar.”

 

Shara was amazed, and though she could guess at the reason, she asked, “What are you doing up here at Blackhold?”

 

His smile was now a little guilty. He didn’t want her to think he was stalking her. “I returned to Onderon for the summer and caught a glimpse of you on the news holos with your little boy. Congratulations, by the way. I thought it would be a wonderful idea to come north and ask about a follow-up piece of you and your husband with your little boy? They grow up so fast; you want to capture them when they're little to last forever.”

 

“To last forever,” Shara repeated. She had heard something like that before but couldn't remember where. “I'll have to speak to Jamos about it. And who knows, maybe Marlon and Lana would like something done with their little ones. Lana has always admired the picture you did of Mother and I. I still have it hanging in my son’s nursery.”

 

“Wonderful!” Balthazar beamed. “I will await your decision eagerly!”

 

… 

 

“Is this something you really want to do?” Jamos would hardly dare to refuse her. His wife had returned from her visit to the pub more animated than he had seen her in weeks. 

 

“Well, he’s the same artist that did the painting of Mother and I. I thought it might be nice to have a portrait of Kase and I to hang alongside it.” 

 

She still sounded hesitant so he teased her. “If he wants you to pose nude I’m putting my foot down.”

 

And then she laughed.  _ Salt gods, how long had it been since he had heard her laugh? _ “You sound just like my father.” 

 

“That Kason Rupingwood was a smart man.” Jamos grinned. 

 

“I’ll go and tell him then.” Shara smiled. “I’m not sure if he’ll be able to start right away. He might have materials to prepare or send for or something.” She started to leave his office but then turned back with a flush to her cheeks that he had also not seen in quite a while. “And the other thing… maybe later… a private showing?” 

 

Jamos had hardly dared to hope that she might be ready to try for another baby so soon but if she was insinuating what she seemed to be… He got up hurriedly from his chair and went to her, taking her hands in his. “Are you sure?”

 

“For your eyes only.” The words were teasing but he could see the same hope in her eyes that he felt, that one day soon they might be able to join Marlon and Lana in the announcement of another new Blackwell. 

He kissed her deeply and then added, with his signature grin, “Aye. I wouldn’t miss that.” 

 

…

 

This wasn’t working out as they’d hoped. Maybe it was hormones, or the stress that Shara had been under or the grief that still gnawed at her. Maybe Kason was just tired of how clingy his mother had been for the past few weeks or he was just that age where he didn’t want to be kept still. They had tried posing for the artist in the greenhouse. Then Jamos had suggested they try going out to the shore since it was one of Kason’s favorite places. The toddler had only wanted to run and play. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Shara told Balthazar for what must have been the millionth time on the third day of his attempt to get a decent sketch of mother and son. She was tired and frustrated and sure that this couldn’t be good for she and Jamos’s attempts to conceive again. 

 

“No, no.” Balthazar waved his hand in dismissal. “It is my fault. I picked an inconvenient time for my visit. The child is obviously draining all of your strength.” 

 

She frowned hoping she wasn’t miss reading his meaning. “Kason is a bit of a handful right now.”

 

“Perhaps if we postponed until you are further along…” 

 

“Wait.” She stopped him before he could go any further. “I - I’m not… You said you saw holos of our family in Iziz. So you heard about…”

 

“That you are expecting your second child? I admit I had imagined that you would be showing more than you are by the time of my arrival…” 

 

“I’m not…” She swallowed hard and tried to steady her words. “You must not have heard that part of the news. We… I lost the baby. I’m… not pregnant.”

 

“Oh my dear I am so sorry…” 

 

“Lana is.” She cut him off. “You could paint her if you wanted… I… I’m sorry I can’t. Come on Kase it’s time for your nap.” She scooped up the boy and fled from the room barely containing the sobbing that threatened burst from her chest. 

 

… 

 

Balthazar nearly left that very afternoon but he couldn’t go without apologizing to her in person and Shara seemed to have locked herself away. Her husband said he would talk to her and in the meantime the artist set out to do as she had suggested and paint the other members of the family. 

 

He managed to capture a nice sketch of the Lord and Lady with their daughter but the boy seemed to be just as active as his younger cousin. Then he attempted a few poses of Lana and the girl. Nothing like his masterpiece of Hadassa and Shara but Lady Blackwell approved of the progress before she went to rest as exhausted with her pregnancy as Balthazar had assumed of Shara. 

 

After that the artist set to work on acquiring the preliminary sketches of the fathers and sons. He was sure his student back in Iziz wouldn’t care about such a thing but the more he worked with the family the more he knew it was them he wanted to please and not the young lord who awaited his comm back down south. 

 

…

 

One day Balthazar was allowed to sit in on what seemed to be a special right of passage for the little Lady.

 

“Let me see your grip.” Marlon crouched before his daughter, who held out her birthday present eagerly and watched rapt as he adjusted her fingers on the hilt. “It’s delicate, Dalla. Like holding a stylus.” 

 

“Aye, Father.” Dalla experimentally turned the knife over with the new grip once her father had leaned back. “Like this?”

 

“Better.” Marlon took her arm in his hands to demonstrate the strikes. 

 

Balthazar smiled from where he stood back with Jamos and his son. When he first arrived in the north he’d balked at the idea of six-year-olds being given knives, but after seeing the parents and sailors with the little ones he’d come around. It really was a matter of how a child was taught about weapons, and the northern curriculum stressed safety and respect for what knives could do. That, Balthazar was all for. 

 

A grunt brought him back to the lesson and he saw Marlon shake his head. “It’s a knife, not a broadsword. If you slash and hack you’ll break the blade, and then what will you do?” 

 

Dalla blinked and stared at the blade. “But it’s durasteel.”

 

“Durasteel can break,” Marlon told her. “Especially if your opponent has something heavy, like a broadsword or a cutlass. Your job is to avoid and get around his blade.”

 

“If I can’t slash and hack, how do I fight?” Dalla’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

 

“You stick him.” Balthazar spoke up from his place across the room. “People are made of water, child. If you poke holes in them…” Here he pretended to stab himself in the stomach with his pencil. 

 

Dalla caught on: “The water comes out.”

 

“And they die.” Marlon smiled with pride. “Alright, ready position. Let’s practice.” 

 

Bathazar cleared his throat. “You still will allow me to sketch this?”

 

“If you wish.” Marlon drew his own knife and stood opposite Dalla, settling into a ready position himself. “Dalla, you will try to strike me. Ready...go!” 

 

Balthazar took off with the command as well, lifting his pencil to his sketchbook at the same time Dalla charged at her father and he easily brushed off her strike. He froze the image in his mind and bent to his task while durasteel clashed in the background.

 

…

 

After a while Balthazar left the fighters to their practice. He had received a comm from his student demanding to know the progress of his visit to the north.

 

“ _ You must send me a holo or a drawing of Shara and her son so that I might have the inspiration to continue my artistic education _ .” Sanjay insisted in the recorded message. 

 

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t betray the trust of this family to some obsessive admirer. It was clear to him now that this was the sole objective of his so called student. Sanjay Rash had only wanted live out his fantasies of his ex-wife through her new situations. Balthazar couldn’t be a party to that. 

 

He would find her, tell her the truth, and apologize. Then he would leave all of the sketches and paintings he had done during his time here and be on his way. He wouldn’t go back to Iziz. He wouldn’t give Sanjay the satisfaction of disrupting this home. 

 

It was almost by chance that he heard her voice as he was leaving the Hold headed towards his rooms at the inn to think over where he would go next. Shara Blackwell was singing. It sounded like a hymn or a prayer. 

 

He tried to speak up but he didn’t know what to say and he was almost entranced by her song. She didn’t seem to notice as he followed her down the path towards a pool of water that steamed at the foot of a large sparkling white obelisk. 

 

Shara stepped right into the pool without breaking her stride or her chorus. Her skirt floated around her as she continued until the water level was up to her waist and then up to her shoulders. 

 

Balthazar began to worry that he should go to fetch another member of the family. What if the distraught young mother meant to do herself harm? He was prepared to jump in and save her even though he was no great swimmer himself. 

 

After only a silent moment when she ceased her singing to dip her head under the water, Shara broke the surface again with a gasp. She tread water speaking words too low for the artist to hear. It must have been some sort of religious ritual that he could not understand. She swam back to a place where she could stand and before she left the pool she turned to the tower of salt, pressed her thumb to her lips and then lifted her palm toward the natural structure. 

 

He couldn’t speak to her now. It was too private a moment to disturb but he did unashamedly lift his sketchpad and begin a drawing of the young woman who sat on the bank of the pool and sang quietly to herself or to her god, Balthazar couldn’t be sure which. 

 

…

 

What must have been hours later, Balthazar had lost track of time as he tried to capture the true spirit of the young woman praying at the spring, her husband came running up the path towards her. “Shara, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” He splashed through the shallows and took her in his arms in a tender embrace. 

 

Her response was almost too low for the artist to hear from his hiding place. “Please tell me you didn’t think I’d taken the sea stairs.” 

 

“No.” He shook his head gazing at her and caressing her hair. Then with his free hand he pulled something small and white from his pocket. “I found this in our ‘fresher.”

 

She nodded. 

 

“It’s positive.” He practically choked on the emotion of the words. 

 

Tears came to her eyes and she sobbed. “I was so afraid to get my hopes up when I took the test. And then… what if it happens again? And how could I ever think that we could replace Jamie?” 

 

“No, no no.” He held her tightly again and spoke in earnest. “We will never replace Jamie. Jamie was a part of this family. IS a part of this family. And this new baby is a gift, a blessing!”

 

“I can still hardly believe it. Not until I can see Niamh. She must have better tests… more certain than…” She waved at the bit of plastoid he had in his hand. 

 

…

 

“Don’t know where he went, Shara,” Maris said, her brow furrowed with confusion. “In the middle a’ the night he slipped an envelope full of credits under our door and I haven’t seen sail nor stern of him since. Room’s all cleared out, his bags are gone -- he just up an’ left!” 

 

“That’s odd,” Shara wondered what had come over the artist for him to leave so suddenly. “Did he say anything last night about having a problem here, or did he leave a note.” 

 

“Oh aye, he left a note,” Maris nodded. “But that’s not all he left.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

Maris gestured to the open room down the hall from where the two were standing. “See for yourself.” 

 

Shara did, taking the invitation to poke into the inn room. The room was in order, the bed neatly made and the only indication someone had spent time here being the stack of canvases and sketches against the wall. 

 

“I recognized you in a few of them paintings,” Maris announced. “You got any idea what all this is about?” 

 

“I honestly have no idea.” Shara picked up the canvas on top, an image of her sitting by the hot springs and praying. She hadn’t known Balthazar was watching her.

 

“Maybe the others do?” 

 

“Maybe.” Shara set the canvas down and thumbed through the others. “Marlon loved a few of the paintings; Balthazar might have sold them to him before he left. He might know something...”

 

But that didn’t seem to be the case when she showed the paintings to the rest of the family and discussed the artist’s mysterious disappearance. “Bought them?” Marlon repeated. “I hadn’t bought anything yet. I was going to when he was done, but he didn’t indicate he was.” 

 

“He left before he was paid?” Lana examined the canvases and sketches. “And he left all his work. He’s a professional artist. If he didn’t want credits, then why did he come up here?”

 

“Don’t ask me,” Jamos shrugged. “I’m glad he left the paintings, even if it’s a bit of a mystery. Especially this one of you by the hot spring, Shar...” 

 

There were murmured agreements and then a moment of silence before Shara spoke up in a voice barely above a whisper. “I think...I think the salt gods answered my prayers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L.S. and I would like to thank all our readers and commenters for sticking with us and allowing us a bit of a break.


	66. To The Ends Of The Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where were we? Right, Marlon’s just fine and the rebels have one Dxun of a mess to clean up in Iziz. - LS

Marlon Blackwell has his priorities straight. After he reassures Sal the nurse that he indeed knows who Dalla is, his second question is about the siege’s status. 

 

His first, for the record, is “Where are my pants?” 

 

“Your pants are probably in a biohazard bin,” Dalla informs him. “As for the siege, it’s over. We took the palace, Father. We won.” 

 

Marlon grins, his euphoria probably assisted by the morphine. “Thank the salt gods. Where’s Rash?” 

 

“The Separatists turned on him when they realized the war was lost. I found him. I was there when he died.” 

 

Marlon sobers up. “You stayed with him?” 

 

“I couldn’t let him die alone. He wasn’t dangerous anymore; he was just broken, and I had to let him die with some dignity.”

 

Her father reaches for her with the hand not connected to an IV drip. 

 

“You did right,” he says. “Some men forget their honor when they come face to face with someone who’s hurt them like he hurt you. You didn’t. You kept it. What about the others in the Highlands?” 

 

“They won too. Saw and Lux are bringing Ahsoka here; that’s where we’re going to meet up. Steela --,” she swallows hard and doesn’t entirely succeed in keeping her grief out of her voice. “Steela didn’t make it.” 

 

Marlon closes his eyes in respect. “In the light of the salt gods.” 

 

Dalla’s struck that she never said the words for Steela. “In the light of the salt gods.” 

 

“When are they due to get here?” 

 

“Soon. I can stay here though; they’re just dropping Ahsoka off at the emergency bay and then they can come up here.” 

 

“I can manage. If I need anything all I have to do is press this button and the nurse will come. You should be with your friends.”

 

“Are you sure?” She only just got back and she wouldn't want to be left alone if she was hurt. “It's really okay. I can stay.”

 

Marlon smiles at the ceiling. “For a second there you looked just like your mother, worrying over me. Knocking some sense into me when I stepped out of line. Always looking out for everyone. She would have been so proud of you today.” He turns back to her. “I know I am.” 

 

Dalla’s heart swells at the rare praise. “Thank you, Father.” 

 

“The only thanks I need is to see you wearing bright pink scrubs with cartoon cognines.” He grins.

 

“Father!”

 

He laughs, a deep booming laugh Dalla hasn't heard in far too long.

 

“I really am proud of you, Dalla,” he says to her mock scowl between laughs. “But go be with your friends. I’ll still be here, laughing about those damn cognines.”

 

…

 

She hears Saw Gerrera before she sees him. He sits on a bench along the wall between Lux and King Dendup, alternately shouting something without words and sobbing into his hands.

 

They don't seem to recognize her at first, seeing the scrubs and thinking she’s a nurse. But then the confusion clears from Lux’s eyes and he waves her over.

 

“Dalla,” he hugs her sitting down and one-armed, the other arm busy rubbing Saw’s back. 

 

“Thank gods you’re alright.” She hugs him back. “Where’s Ahsoka?”

 

“They took her back a few minutes ago.” He takes a deep breath, clearly worried about Ahsoka but thankful she’s alive. “And your father?” 

 

“He’s fine.” She lets go of him and focuses on the more pressing concern. “Saw?” 

 

Saw sobs acknowledgement. Dalla sits on the floor in front of the bench since there’s no more room on it and whispers “Saw, I’m sorry.” 

 

Instead of saying anything, Saw leans forward and uses her as a human elbow rest. She reaches over her shoulder and places a hand on his while Lux continues to rub his back. 

 

“We’re here for you, Saw,” he says. “Both of us. We’re not going anywhere.” How he manages to keep his voice even is a wonder in itself. 

 

Saw falls silent and no one says anything else for almost a full standard minute until King Dendup breaks the silence. “Young lady,” he says, sounding very uncomfortable. “That’s not Saw’s shoulder you’re holding. It’s my leg.” 

 

Dalla immediately lets go. “My apologies, Your Highness.” 

 

Dendup shrugs it off. “You said your men have taken the palace?” 

 

“We have, sire. But it’s not ready to move in yet. We still have to clean up and --” she doesn’t want to say the last bit aloud in front of Saw. She mouths  _ we don’t know what to do with the body.  _

 

“We’ll take care of it,” he says and nods to make sure she knows he’s also talking about the body. “There’s no hurry; it’s not as if I’m homeless. Lux has graciously offered his hospitality.” 

 

“And that offer extends to you and your family too,” Lux says. “Saw’s already agreed to stay with us and I thought it would be good to have everyone together when Ahsoka and your father are discharged.” 

 

“Lux, are you sure? I have a big family.”  _ It won’t be a quiet place for Saw to catch his breath and process.  _

 

“I have a big house. There’s plenty of room for everyone. Anyway, Thi--” he stops just in time, remembering not to mention siblings in front of Saw. “I’d like to have you all there.” 

 

“You’ll need the space. Your aunt just commed me about getting a planethopper to bring the rest of your family down to Iziz,” General Tandin says and then gently brushes her and Lux aside so he can get to Saw. 

 

“Saw, come with me. We’re going to take a walk,” he says and lifts Saw to his feet like a bag of wet duracrete. They go down the hallway in the general direction of the cafeteria, Tandin’s arm around the younger man.

 

Dendup scoots over to make room for Dalla on the bench. “Have the body transported to the Rash Estate. We can keep him there until we decide what to do with him.” 

 

“That sounds as good a plan as any,” Dalla joins them. “Once we do that we can work on cleaning it out so you can move back in.”

 

“About that. Your men can clean out the public areas of the palace and the throne room, but I’d like you two to handle Rash’s personal quarters.” 

 

“Us?” Lux echoes. 

 

“Rash was the last of his House,” Dendup explains. “And with no blood relatives left who aren’t mourning the loss of their immediate family member, Dalla as Rash’s fiancée is technically the next of kin.” 

 

“The betrothal document in question is a forgery.” 

 

“It’s not ideal,” the king admits. “General Tandin will need to lead your men cleaning out the Rash Estate. And Saw is in no shape. I’ve no right to ask you this but I trust you two. I know you won’t get carried away. And the king’s quarters aren’t massive, either. There’s a sitting room, a smaller room off to the side, a refresher, and then ...” 

 

“His bedroom.” Dalla says it when the silence grows awkward. 

 

“Yes. The bedroom.” 

 

“Sire, I can do it alone,” Lux volunteers. “Dalla can manage the cleanup at the estate, or --” 

 

“I’ll be fine, Lux. It’s only a room.” She forces a reassuring smile. “I’ll ask Lord Kira to drop off the boys at your place. They can stay there with Saw and Ahsoka and everyone else.” 

 

Dendup gently squeezes their shoulders. From afar, he must look like a doting grandfather with his grandchildren. Nevermind he’s given them an incredible task. 

 

“Thank you,” he says first to her, and then to Lux. “Thank you. I’ll do everything I can from the estate.” 

 

…

 

The night between then and Lux and Dalla dragging themselves through the palace doors passes in a blur of medcenter discharge papers for Marlon and for Ahsoka, wrangling a speeder to take them all to Bonteri Estate since Marlon can’t walk that far, running to the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions, sudden brother acquisition during which Bremon Kira barely even nodded to Dalla’s, Jamos’, and Marlon’s profuse thank yous and condolences, and Marlon’s roar of “THIAS MODON BLACKWELL!” which kicked off a nightlong shouting-down that left Thias blubbering apologies like there was no tomorrow. Between that, the equally loud lecture Jamos was giving Kason, and Saw’s distress they all barely got a wink of sleep. 

 

“I can’t believe Saw’s going to the Rash Estate,” Lux sighs. “He’s in no condition to do it.”

 

Dalla can’t believe it either. “We tried to get him to stay. Salt gods, Dendup couldn’t even stop him when he got it in his head. Tandin _physically_ _blocked the door._ And still he got past him.” 

 

“The booze had to have something to do with it.” 

 

Not knowing how full the Bonteris’ liquor cabinet was to begin with Dalla can’t be sure, but she’s willing to bet Saw hit the sauce pretty hard. “Aye.” 

 

Lux checks his pocket to make sure he still has the key to the liquor cabinet. “We have to keep an eye on him. We’re all mourning, but him? She was so much…” He swallows hard. “But she wasn’t my sister. I don’t have any siblings. I can't imagine what he’s going through.”

 

Dalla can’t bring herself to imagine how she’d feel if something happened to Thias or Cade, but she got a taste when Thias was in line for the guillotine. “I don’t think he feels anything right now. But when he starts feeling …”

 

Lux nods and they walk through the palace’s entrance hall and up the grand staircase to the king’s chambers. “You don’t have to do this,” he says. “I can handle it myself and I won’t tell Dendup if you want to sit this one out.” 

 

Dalla stops at the top of the stairs to enter the security code and grant them entrance to the king’s quarters. “Nothing happened in there. I’ve never even been there.” 

 

“It’s still his  _ bedroom,” _ Lux jogs to catch up with her. “You can’t ignore that.” 

 

“I wasn’t afraid of the room itself. I was afraid of what he would do in it.” The codes clear and she picks a door at random. “Here, this one doesn’t look like the bedroom. We can start here if that makes you feel better.”

 

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.” 

 

“Lux, it’s just a room.”  The door’s slightly open so she doesn’t have to guess the access code. “What could possibly be in here? It’s probably just a storage closet or a --  _ oh my gods!”  _

 

The door opens to reveal a painter’s studio. There’s an easel and a box of supplies off to the side. A few props lie cast off in the corner. And the walls are covered with portraits. 

 

Portraits all depicting a young Shara.

 

Dalla’s jaw hits the floor. Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised after seeing the Shara statue, but this is beyond just creepy. 

 

Lux’s eyes are like saucers. “Stalker…” 

 

“Oh. My. Gods.” Dalla repeats and tentatively enters the room half-expecting something to jump out from behind the paintings. “I knew he never stopped wanting her, but this is … obsession.” 

 

“I’ll say,” Lux follows her and approaches one of the paintings. “These are all of your aunt.” 

 

“Makes you wonder if he wanted me just to be related to her again,” Dalla tries to joke, but the humor dies in the air. “Aunt Shara always said he never really loved her, but he sure thought he did.” She comes to a stop in front of a painting depicting Sanjay and her aunt in a tender embrace. “He lived an entire fantasy life with her. There must be scores here.”

 

“More,” Lux corrects her and holds up a sketchbook. He opens the cover and his eyes widen even more. “Woah!” 

 

“Hey, that’s my aunt!” Dalla snatches the sketchbook and shuts it, unwilling to let herself see those pictures. She tosses it into a waste receptacle by the easel.  _ Salt gods, please let there not be any like that of me.  _

 

The easel catches her attention and she looks closer. It’s a painting of Shara sitting on a bed, a fair-haired little girl in her lap. 

 

Lux comes over to see what she’s looking at and stops once he sees the painting. 

 

“Kason too?” 

 

Dalla carefully touches the painting and examines her fingertip. The paint’s still wet. “It looks like my little cousin Lana. But he’s never seen her before.” 

 

“Maybe he found an image on the net,” Lux suggests and gestures to the paintings. “What are we going to do with these? We can’t sell them, we can’t give them away. I can’t imagine you all want them.” 

 

“Burn them.” She doesn’t know what else to do. “Just burn them.” 

 

“I thought so.” He examines another painting, this one of Shara sleeping on a couch. “It’s almost a shame. If he wasn’t a king, he could have been a professional painter.” 

 

Dalla leaves the easel and makes her way to where he is, at a pedestal in the center of the room. To her absolute horror, there’s a holoprojector sitting on top of it. 

 

“Do I even want to know what that is?” Maybe Lux previewed it without her noticing. 

 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “But there’s only one way to find out.” And with that he presses the activation button and the projection pops up. It’s of a young Sanjay and Shara sitting at a meal, engaged in polite if slightly awkward conversation. She looks like she just wants the meal to be over, while he’s absolutely absorbed. 

 

“He must watch this on endless repeat,” she says, examining the worn-out buttons on the holodisk. “Aunt Shara once told me she had dinner with him right before their annulment and a droid recorded it. This must be the holo.” 

 

Lux kills the projection. 

 

“I feel like I’m in a slasher holo,” he says. “And if I’m creeped out then you definitely are. Let’s stack up these paintings and we can find a fireplace to burn them in.” 

 

Dalla nods. “Aye, that sounds like a good idea.” 

 

…

 

Dalla doesn’t know what to expect in Sanjay Rash’s bedroom. A hundred more paintings? A shrine to Shara? A fruit orchard? An adjoining dungeon with a “Welcome, Dalla!” sign on the door? 

 

But there’s none of that; for all intents and purposes it’s just a bedroom. Still, Dalla’s gut clenches. She’s spent the last month actively avoiding this place -- salt gods, she had nightmares about this place --  and now here she is. 

 

In her nightmares the room is dark and windowless, with gargoyles sticking out from the walls. In reality it’s warmly lit and painted red and gold, the canopied bed the focal point. Dalla’s trying very hard not to look at it. She can almost feel the scene from her nightmares taking shape: her standing frozen in the doorway staring at the bed and Rash placing a hand on her back to push her inside. Oh gods, she can actually feel his hand... 

 

“Dalla?” 

 

She snaps back to reality and Lux withdraws his hand from her back. “You don’t look so good.” 

 

Dalla takes a second to collect herself. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this cleared out,” she says and walks into the room, making a beeline for a filing cabinet. If there's one thing in this room that isn't going to freak her out, it's a filing cabinet. Lux stays by her side and opens the top drawer.

 

“Looks like he organized everything by date,” he mutters and takes out the first stack of flimziwork. “Just some basic records here. Birth certificate, marriage license, death certificate for Melaana Rash Kira, annulment decree, death certificate for Ommin Rash, brochures from Ov Taraba University’s art department.” He shifts through some more papers. “Skip forward seventeen years, and there’s a death certificate for Sanda Rash and a betrothal contract.”

 

Dalla grabs the annulment papers and the betrothal contract from his hands and flips through them. Just as she suspected, Marlon’s signature on the betrothal contract is identical to the signature from seventeen years earlier.

 

“His mother died from Fartrad's disease,” Lux says, eyebrows raised. “I’d never have guessed. She hid it extraordinarily well.”

 

“Fartrad’s disease?” Dalla repeats, glad to have something to take her mind off the current situation. “My grandfather had that; he died before I was born. Father says it’s excruciating. Salt gods, how did she live as long as she did?” 

 

“Sheer force of will, I’d wager. She was very focused on setting up this betrothal.” He puts down the flimsi and goes to another. “A receipt for two dozen red roses, to be shipped to Harkon Hall? You’d think he’d want them shipped to Blackhold.”

 

“They aren't for me. He didn’t know his men killed Miranda until it was too late. She was his cousin.” It’s not a good idea to think about Miranda when she’s just barely keeping it together, but there’s no way around it. “From what Tandin said, Rash was furious when he found out. He was going to kill the men who did it. This must be his way of saying he was sorry.” 

 

“I don’t think he quite made up for it.” 

 

“No, it didn’t.” She puts the receipt with the other documents and another file catches her eye. “Lux, did you see this?” 

 

“No. What is it?” 

 

“I don’t know, but it’s labeled ‘Aargonaar.’ That’s where your father and the Gerreras…” Lux stops what he’s doing and she takes that as a good enough reason to go ahead. “Do you want me to read it out loud or do you want to do it yourself?” 

 

His hands are shaking. “Read it.”

 

Dalla opens the file, which contains only a single piece of flimsi. “Mission report for base setup on Aargonaar. Commanding officer Major Radan --.” 

 

“That’s not right. My father was the commanding officer; it should be Lieutenant General Dane Bonteri.” 

 

That’s not all that’s not right. “Mission status … success?”   

 

_ “What?”  _ Lux snatches the file from her hands and skim-reads it before he sees something that makes him drop the file and stagger backwards. 

 

“Lux!” Dalla races forward and grabs his arm to steady him. “Lux, what is it? Are you alright?” 

 

“It was them.” 

 

“It was who?” 

 

“The Separatists,” he sputters. “Dooku had his agents dress in stolen clone armor and attack the base. They wanted to push Onderon and my mother to the Separatist cause. My father --” he gulps. “My father was killed by his own men.”  

 

“Salt gods, Lux, I…” She trails off because there’s nothing to say. What can she say to make him feel better about this? Dalla comes up empty, so instead she dispenses the advice Mina gave her four years ago:  _ give me a hug. You need a hug.  _

 

Lux accepts her hug. “They killed my father, and then my mother, and I followed them. I let the man who killed my parents hold control of my planet.” 

 

“But you took it back. You took it away from him, and he’s never getting it again as long as we’re alive.” 

 

She gives Lux a few more minutes while he calms down, and then he lets her go and puts the file back into the cabinet with a sigh. 

 

Dalla shuts it. “Do we need anything else from here?” 

 

He shakes his head. “We can throw these into the incinerator along with the paintings. His clothes and personal effects we can donate. It should just be a matter of boxing things up.”

 

“Good.” Dalla empties the file cabinet and reaches for a trunk sitting next to it. “I wouldn't bet on documents in this one.”

 

“Some trinkets or a family heirloom, most likely,” Lux agrees and pulls the trunk between the two of them, pops the lid so they can see its contents.

 

Inside are two paintings and a ship in a bottle nestled on a bed of silk. Lux reaches for the bottle while Dalla takes one of the paintings.

 

“More of your aunt?” He asks, examining the ship in a bottle.

 

Dalla shakes her head. 

 

“Well then who is it?”

 

“Me.”

 

Lux puts the bottle down and looks at the painting himself. It's a detailed one, depicting a young woman sitting in a rowboat on a quiet pond. “It might not be you,” he reasons. “It's from behind; you can't see her face.”

 

“The hair’s too dark to be Aunt Shara. That's how I know it's me.” Without realizing, her hand has gone to her nose. “He didn't want me, not like he wanted her. He turned my face away so he wouldn't have to paint it.” She puts the painting down and grabs the other. It's not a painting at all, but a preliminary sketch. “This one just looks like my mother’s head stuck on my aunt’s body. He didn't know what I looked like.”

 

“You look so sad there.”

 

“He got that part right.” She picks up the ship in a bottle. “These must be wedding presents. I can’t think of any other reason he’d have this. Aunt Shara says he hated sailing ships.” 

 

“I can see why he picked this,” Lux taps the bottle. “He knew you like ships. If he connected something you like with himself, he could try to salvage your opinion of him. At least, that’s the idea. It doesn’t work all the time. He probably just got it because you’d like it and it would remind you of home.”

 

“I’d probably try to hit him over the head with it.” She starts heading toward Rash’s nightstand when Lux cuts in front of her. 

 

“I know men and their nightstands,” he asserts. “I’ll take it. You take the closet.” 

 

Not knowing men and their nightstands, Dalla’s willing to take his word for it. Anyway, like he said the only thing to do in the closet is box up Sanjay’s clothes. Easy as pie. She looks around the room for something to put the clothes in while she opens the closet door. 

 

She looks back and her blood freezes.

 

Sanjay Rash’s clothes and shoes are all shoved to one side of the closet. The other is empty except for some pieces of women’s clothing. Women’s clothing about her size. 

 

Dalla backs up like the clothes will attack her. Lux on the other side of the room sounds very far away. “Is this an actual flimsi book? I haven’t seen one of these in years. Looks kind of northern. Do you recognize it?” 

 

She doesn’t answer. 

 

“Dalla?” Lux abandons his task and approaches the closet. “What is it? Is something -- oh.”

 

“He was prepared,” she says idiotically. “He was ready for me to move in.” She reaches to touch one of the dresses half-expecting it to blow up in her face. The silk slides through her fingers like water. Now that she looks closer she can see it’s two dresses and a nightgown, all of them red and black. They’re the softest things she’s ever felt in her life. 

 

“Not completely ready. Remember Kason said he needed to get your measurements so he could get clothes for you? These are just temporary.” Lux tries to ward off any potential freakouts before they happen while yanking Sanjay’s clothes off their hangers and tossing them into a pile without folding them. He goes for the dresses afterward, hell-bent on getting himself and Dalla out of here before she completely loses it. 

 

It’s no use. Dalla spots a box on the closet floor and pulls it out in silence. Lux pauses from his closet-cleaning just long enough to notice. “What is that?” 

 

She shrugs and opens the box. Lux abandons the closet to look. 

 

“Hairbrush, toiletries, vitamins, cosmetics--” his eyes go wide when he realizes what it is. “I’ll put the clothes in that box,” he says and grabs for it. 

 

Dalla won’t cough it up. “This was for me. He knew I wasn’t going to have anything with me, so he stocked up ahead of time.” Something in the box catches her eye. “He got slippers. In case my feet got cold.” 

 

Slippers should be the least of her problems here. But the fact that Sanjay Rash worried about her cold feet long enough to buy a pair of slippers and set them neatly in the box while completely ignoring her denial strikes her and she bursts out laughing. Salt gods, of everything to be worried about he picked her  _ feet?  _

 

Lux comes up to her side and snakes an arm around her back. It takes all the sanity she has not to jerk away screaming. 

 

“Do you want to go sit out in the hall?” he asks, reaching for the box. 

 

“I don’t know what to think,” she keeps staring down into the box. “He gets me a present so I won’t feel homesick, but he was going to rip me away from my home in the first place? He makes a place for me and thinks about my cold feet, and he might as well be deaf when I scream at him to let me go? What was he thinking?  _ Was _ he thinking? Was he even sane? What kind of man...what kind of man wanted me in this room with him?” 

 

Lux pries the box from her hands and sets it at their feet before gesturing for her to sit down. Thank the gods, he has the wherewithal not to seat her on the bed but on the floor where they stand. 

 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “The only time I saw him in the flesh was on the execution stage. But from what I’ve heard, you all were right. His mother was a monster, and she turned him into one right along with her. She was pulling his puppet strings up until the day she died, but once she was gone he still moved the same way. It was his choice. We’ll drive ourselves crazy trying to figure out why he did it, but he did it by his own choice. And men who do things like that are monsters. Dalla, listen to me.”

 

He shoves the box onto its side, dumping out the contents. “He’s dead. He’s dead, and he’s never going to hurt any of us. We  _ won.  _ We had to pay one hell of a price for it and my gods, I wish we could have paid some other way.” His voice breaks. “But we beat him. And if Steela was here, she’d say the same thing.” 

 

“Aye, she would. Very loudly, in Onderonian.” Dalla cracks a smile. 

 

“Are you done freaking out?” Lux says carefully. 

 

“I think so.” She watches while he scoops up the box and stuffs Sanjay’s clothes in along with the original contents. “You said something about a flimsi book?” 

 

“Yes, I threw it on the bed next to the nightstand.” Lux says. “It’s a picture book, and it’s in Onderonian. But there are pictures of ships on the cover; it’s called  _ The Adventures of…?”  _

 

_ “The Adventures of Sanya Harkon?”  _ Dalla locates the book and scoops it up. “Aye, that’s it. My mother would read this to me when I was little. It’s a true story: Sanya Harkon wanted to be a ship’s captain but her family said she couldn’t because she was a girl. So she sailed to Blackhold and asked the lord and lady to make her a sailor. They were so impressed she’d made the journey by herself they gave her a position on the spot and she was always a friend to them. That’s how the great friendship between the Harkons and the Blackwells began.” She opens the book and flips through the pages. 

 

“He got it for you, then?” 

 

Dalla shakes her head. “I don’t think so. It’s old, the pages are creased, and somebody doodled in the margins. Everything else he got for me is brand-new; he wouldn’t get a book secondhand. Whose is this?” 

 

“My mother would always write my name in the back cover,” Lux suggests. 

 

Dalla flips to the back cover. Sure enough, there’s a written message: “Melaana, may the wind always be in your sails.” 

 

“That’s his sister.” 

 

But she’s more concerned with the last part of the message. “From, Lana Flint.”  

 

Lux turns back to her. “Your mother? Why does he have something from your mother?” 

 

“The Rashes took a vacation to Blackhold when my parents’ betrothal was announced. Mother said she took Sanjay and his sister out on her boat to look at the Brylks. She must have given this to Melaana as a souvenir before they left.” Dalla makes a snap decision and shuts the book’s cover. “I’m keeping this. It was my mother’s.”

 

Lux doesn’t argue with her. Instead he goes back to Sanjay’s nightstand and scoops out the contents. “Rash had one thing going for him; he didn’t keep creepy things in his nightstand. Just that book, some handkerchiefs, and then this.” He lifts out a velvet bag by the drawstrings. “Unless this is just his creepy-things case. I wonder what’s --” he reaches into the bag and swallows hard. “Dalla, will you carry the boxes into the hallway?” 

 

She doesn’t bite. “What’s in the bag, Lux?” 

 

“After that box, I don’t think it’s such a good idea.” 

 

Dalla braces herself for all manners of creepiness. “I won’t lose it,” she swears, holding her mother’s book. “I might have to run into the ‘fresher and stick my face under the cold tap, but I will not lose it. I swear. But please, kill the suspense and show me what it is.” 

 

Lux sighs like he thinks it’s a very bad idea, and upends the bag onto the bed. Out bounces a small gold circlet adorned with red gems. 

 

The two of them stare at it. 

 

“Do I need to stick your head under the tap?” he asks after a minute. 

 

“No.” Dalla honestly doesn’t know why she’s so calm. The thought of Rash putting the crown on her head makes her skin crawl, but lying on the bed it’s nothing but a harmless piece of jewelry. “I just wonder. Where’s the necklace?” 

 

Lux furrows his brow. He wasn’t expecting her to be this calm after the previous freakout. “What necklace?” 

 

“The betrothal necklace. He should have had it; I threw it at him on the steps. He had this crown, he had everything else I might need, but no necklace. Where is it?” 

 

“Maybe deeper in the drawer. I can --” He’s cut off by a siren screaming past the palace. “The fire department? What could they be after?” 

 

Dalla doesn’t waste time speculating. Instead she runs to the nearest window and throws open the curtains. Sure enough, there’s a plume of smoke rising a few blocks away. And it looks like it’s coming from… “Salt gods, is that the Rash Estate?” 

 

Lux practically teleports to the window. “It is.” 

 

They stare at each other, remembering just who’s at the Rash Estate. “Oh gods, Saw!” 

 

But Dalla has other fish to fry. There’s one person at the Rash Estate who seems to be attracted to trouble like a moth to the flame: “Thias.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, what could have befallen Saw and Thias now? Especially where fire is concerned.


	67. Great Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With so much sadness in our previous Gen1 chapters and all the drama of the siege of Iziz it’s about time we had something a little lighter for you to enjoy. How about a birthday sea voyage? Dalla is turning 6 and the Blackwell Clan has plenty to celebrate. ~ DK

“Lana,” Niamh poked her head out the door of the exam room with a smile brightening her features. “Come on in.” She looked back and then amended, “My Lord, you’re welcome as well.” 

 

“It’s good news then?” Lana squeezed her husband’s hand. 

 

“Come and see for yourself.” The midwife backed out of the doorway so they could enter. 

 

Shara still lay on the exam table covered modestly with a sheet with Jamos beside her, both of them staring raptly at the black and white screen. She noticed the newcomers first. “Look!” she cried happily. “Look at that heartbeat!”

 

Marlon looked but he couldn’t make stem nor stern of the image. Still he smiled and said, “Congratulations.” 

 

Lana who knew more what to look for pointed. “That’s the baby there, aye?” She asked Niamh. 

 

“Aye.” The midwife nodded, “and that tiny little flash is a strong, healthy heartbeat. Measuring perfectly for the dates. Should make his or her appearance about a month and a half after the new year dawns.” 

 

“And you’re sure Shara and the baby are safe to travel?” Jamos asked for what must not have been the first time. 

 

“Aye.” Niamh tried to reassure the captain. “No beastmastering duties but this time of year with the fresh sea air. I see no problem with a sailing trip. When you return we’ll have our regular monthly prenatal exam.” 

 

“Prenatal.” Shara repeated the word. She reached out and touched the image of the tiny baby on the screen. 

 

“It’s wonderful, Shara! I’m so happy for you!” Lana gushed. 

 

Marlon laughed and teased. “Well then if you don’t mind, I believe it’s our turn. Have to make sure Lana’s got the same clearance for the voyage.” 

 

Both Shara and Jamos looked disappointed at having to take their eyes off their long awaited miracle. 

 

“I got a recording. You can watch it anytime you please.” Niamh popped a disk out of the sonogram machine and handed it to Jamos. You’d think she’d just given a kid a pet cog for salt and light. “Now you two get going so I can see to my next patient.” 

 

“Aye, Niamh! And thank you!” Jamos pocketed the disk carefully and helped Shara down from the table. 

 

… 

 

Lana and Marlon’s appointment was just as successful. Their little bean was measuring about a month ahead of Jamos and Shara’s, as expected, and was more distinguishable in the black and white image on the screen. It was still too early to find out the gender, but Lana said, since they already had one of each, she would be happy being surprised again. 

 

She was also given leave to sail and together the entire Blackwell family began packing for the celebratory voyage. 

 

…

 

“So what would you like me to make for your birthday supper?” Shara asked her niece, the newly appointed Cabin girl, who was having a snack during her off-duty watch in the small galley aboard her father’s ship,  _ Alon’s Hand _ . 

 

Dalla’s eyes brightened. “Noodles and your special sauce!”

 

Shara grinned. “I thought you might. I brought everything aboard that we’ll need to make it. You’ll help me chop the veggies since you’re so expert at using your knife now, won’t you?”

 

“Aye, Aunt Shara.” Dalla giggled. The six year old was settled with a cutting board, and a couple of roots and all the regular safety instructions, while Shara turned to start a few other ingredients simmering on the stove. 

Instead of the expected, gentle thud of the knife against the cutting board, Shara heard an almighty stab and turned around to see the whole root impaled through the middle on Dalla’s knife.

 

“What are you doing?” She asked, smiling because she already knew.

 

“Sticking holes in him,” Dalla announced proudly. “He didn’t have any soft spots though.”

 

“With people, aye, that’s how you do it.” Shara pantomimed a knife to show her niece the proper technique. “With vegetables, it’s more like this.”

 

A delicious smell began to waft from the pan on the stove. Only it didn't smell as delicious to Shara as it normally should have. In fact it smelled down right awful. 

 

Shara gagged, pressed her hand over her nose and mouth and attempted to tell Dalla not to do anything without her as she ran for the deck. She managed to get to the rail before her breakfast reappeared. 

 

Jamos left Kason with Lana and Thias where the boys had been playing with sail lines and ran to his wife. He held back her hair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He produced a handkerchief when she was finished and held her. “I am so sorry you have to go through this again.” 

 

“I’m not.” She smiled. “It’s reassuring, actually. Though I brought all that mint gum thinking the fishing would bother me again like it did with Kase. I never expected it to be cooking my favorite dish that triggered it.” She pouted disappointedly and he understood. Cooking was her creative outlet. 

 

“Surely it’ll pass after a few weeks. With Kase you felt almost back to normal when you hit your second trimester.” 

 

Shara nodded and then remembered. “I didn’t feel anything like this with Jamie. Maybe that should have been a sign that something was wrong.” 

 

“Might have been.” He said softly. “This one’s healthy though.” He kissed her forehead. “And we need something to call him or her. What do you think?”

 

She opened her mouth to speak, stopped, and then begun again. “We can’t use your first name. That’s been taken.”

 

“Aye.”

 

Shara hurried on. “I thought maybe Emoth for a boy.”

 

Jamos smiled. “I like that. And how about Emma for a girl?” He put his hand on her still flat belly and she put her hand over his. 

 

“We love you, Em.” She whispered and laughed. “Even if you do make me sick of my favorite meal.” 

 

“Are you feeling a little better now?” He asked, still concerned. 

 

“Aye. The fresh sea air helps. I’ll go down to our cabin and get some of that gum before I head back to the galley but the smell isn’t so bad now,” she said, and indeed it wasn’t. But there was something else in the air besides the fresh sea breeze: “Jamos, do you smell smoke?”

 

She wasn’t the only one. While Jamos sniffed the air Ness speed walked down to the galley and emerged a moment later laughing hysterically, Dalla hanging behind him. 

 

“Dalla Niamh Blackwell! Are you alright?” Lana shoved the boys toward Shara and Jamos in her hurry to cross the deck and get to her daughter. She alternately hugged and scolded  Dalla, thankful that she wasn’t hurt. 

 

“I’m sorry, Lana. I shouldn’t have left her.” Shara scooped up Kason and kept a hand on Thias. 

 

“It’s not your fault, Shara,” Lana said. “Dalla, I thought we’d learned not to turn up the burners to full blast when you’re using the stove.”

 

Dalla looked genuinely perplexed. “Won’t that make the food cook faster?”

 

Lana laughed a bit and then something dawned on her that made her eyes go wide. 

 

Shara saw her friend’s face and took charge of the situation. She handed Kason over to Jamos and then reached for Lana’s two kids. 

 

“Why don’t you two help me make the noodles for supper tonight?” she asked, praying that plain noodles wouldn’t set her stomach rolling again. 

 

The children nodded and followed Shara to the galley. Lana, unspeakably grateful for her sister-in-law’s quick thinking, rushed off in the opposite direction in search of her husband. 

 

Marlon saw his wife’s approach from the other side of the ship and politely dismissed the officers he’d been talking to. That walk was the mission walk. The Marlon-Aloysius-Blackwell-you-stop-whatever-you’re-doing-and-listen-to-me walk. He’d only seen it a few times in his life and salt gods help him, he’d taken it seriously every time. 

 

Lana’s mission walk reached him in a few seconds. “Marlon.” 

 

There was only one safe response. “Lana.” 

 

“Marlon, we are raising a queen.” 

 

He wasn’t expecting that. Discreetly as he could he led his wife to a quieter space. “Dalla’s a sweet kid Lana, but I wouldn’t say she’s a …”

 

“Not like that. I mean we are literally raising the future queen.” Lana took a deep breath. “I hadn’t realized until now, and I’m questioning every parenting decision we’ve ever made.” 

 

Marlon stared shocked at his wife until it hit him as well: no other girls had been born to the Great Houses. Only his daughter. 

 

“I knew we were raising the Lady of the North, but we aren’t,” Lana whispered. “Whoever the next king is going to be, she’s the best possible match for him. Our daughter … Marlon, she and her husband are going to rule the planet. How do we raise someone to do that?”

 

Marlon was more worried about the husband part of the equation. His and Lana’s arranged marriage had worked out beautifully, but that wasn’t true for every such match. Since his daughter had been born he swore to himself that the man she married would love and treasure her. He would never barter her away to a man whose only qualification was a crown. But the prospect of such men coming to call suddenly seemed closer than ever. 

 

Who even was there? House Kira’s heir had died in the awful crash that took Shara’s friend as well. King Dendup didn’t have any heirs. House Rash … that was just ridiculous. That left House Bonteri, and their little boy who was just a few months older than Dalla. Marlon hadn’t seen Lux Bonteri since he was a baby.

 

“I don’t know how we’re going to it,” Marlon admitted. “But I think she’ll do just fine. She’s taken to the crew right away, I can only imagine her running a ship of her own or the Hold or her court. She’ll be a natural, just like her mother.”

 

Lana smirked and elbowed him gently before returning to seriousness. “Do you remember when we were down in Iziz, staying with the Bonteris?” 

 

“Aye, I do.” He didn’t like the way he thought this was going. “What of it?”

 

“Shara joked about a marriage alliance between Dalla and their Lux. It was only a joke, but maybe it shouldn’t be. Dane and Mina are our bannermen and they’re good, honorable people. They’re going to raise Lux to be good and honorable as well.  Maybe, in a few years, we should give them a comm.”

 

“Maybe,” Marlon hedged. “But that’s still a long way off.” 

 

Lana didn’t seem convinced but she nodded.

 

“And until then, we keep Dalla alive,” He cracked a smile. “And we raise her like any other child. We raise her with kindness and bravery and honor, so when she becomes the Lady of the North and maybe something more, she’ll leave Onderon better than she found it.”

 

…

 

“What is this, a pleasure cruise? Lounge chairs on the lido deck?” Marlon found his wife, brother, and sister-in-law enjoying the quiet under the stars after the children had been put to bed (or hammock) and his own Captain’s duties had been performed for the night. 

 

Lana gestured to a chair beside her and smiled. “Well, it has been a rather pleasurable journey so far, wouldn’t you say so, my love?”

 

The birthday dinner had been fun once they’d agreed to drop the subject of betrothals until that was absolutely necessary. Instead Dalla informed them all that she was halfway to 12 years old now and since Uncle Jamos got his first ship when he was that age she was halfway to ship ownership as well. 

 

“It has.” Marlon sat, took his wife’s hand and kissed it. “Except when our oh so grown up daughter tried to burn my ship to the water.” 

 

Lana laughed. “We just won’t tell the Bonteris about her lack of cooking skills.”

 

“So you’re considering my idea of a Bonteri/Blackwell match? I said it when they were babies.” Shara smiled.

 

“That won’t be for quite some time,” Marlon asserted. 

 

Jamos reached over and patted his wife’s belly. “Well maybe this one will be a girl and we'll snatch Lux right out from under your nose before you get the chance.”

 

Marlon teased them right back. “You're already sucking up to them by naming your son after the Lieutenant.”

 

They all laughed, but Jamos shrugged. “He's not really named after Dane. We just liked the name. And I heard he’s a captain now.”

 

“Do you have a name picked out for this little one?” Lana asked.

 

Shara gave Jamos a little nod for him to do the honors. 

 

“Emoth if it's a boy.” He squeezed her hand. “or Emma.”

 

Shara added, “Emma Quay after your mother.”

 

Jamos grinned. “Then the boy would have to be Emoth Alon.”

 

Shara nodded.

 

“Oh no.” Marlon protested. “We've got first dibs on the name Alon.”

 

“How come you get first dibs on the name Alon, chirn head?” Jamos complained.    
  
“Because I'm the oldest, chirn head.” His brother countered. “And the oldest always gets the best stuff.”   
  
“Well, not this time!” The younger brother argued.    
  
Lana broke in laughing. “First one to have her baby gets to use the name?”   
  
Shara extended her hand. “It's a deal! If they’re both boys that is. And may the best woman win!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send out the official announcements! Two new Blackwells are on the way!


	68. From the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to see if Saw and Thias have gotten themselves burnt to a crisp. -LS

To Dalla’s relief, Thias Blackwell isn't inside the flaming Rash Estate. Instead, he’s on the street with Saw and General Tandin, and when he sees her and Lux coming he takes front and center. 

 

“This,” he announces, gesturing to the inferno behind him, “Is  _ not  _ my fault.”

 

…

 

Indeed it isn't Thias’ fault, as Tandin and Saw explain while the firefighters work on containing the blaze. The fire started as a simple method to get rid of the Rashes’ personal documents: utility bills, junk messages, things like that. 

 

“And then some idiots decided to screw around with lighter fluid,” Saw snaps. Dalla almost jumps when he speaks; it's the first time she’s heard him talk since Steela died. 

 

“I was not one of them,” Thias says quickly. 

 

“The burning turned into a frenzy. People were burning anything they could, not just documents,” Tandin explains. “They were spraying the lighter fluid every which way and some of it got on the carpet.”

 

“So the carpet catches on fire,” Saw continues. “From that the drapes get lit, and by the time anyone’s smart enough to get one of us the whole thing was out of control.”

 

“Is anyone else inside?” Lux asks.

 

Tandin shakes his head. “I checked, and we’re all accounted for.” 

 

“Sort of a blessing,” Saw grumbles. “The universe torching them away for us.” 

 

“General, do you think they can put out the fire?” Dalla asks. 

 

Thias gapes. “Do you  _ want  _ them to?”

 

“House Rash might deserve it, but the neighbors don't.”

 

Tandin shakes his head. “From the looks of this fire, their best course of action is to contain it and let it burn out.”

 

“That works, I guess,” Lux says. “We won’t have to worry about what to do with the contents.”

 

The contents. All of a sudden Dalla remembers what they were storing in the Rash Estate. “General, may I speak to you privately? My father wanted me to tell you something and said it was sensitive.” 

 

Tandin’s BS detector must be flashing, but he just nods and steps off to the side, out of the others’ earshot. 

 

“Did you find something in the palace that I need to know about?” he asks once they’re far enough away. 

 

“No. It's about Rash’s body. Dendup told you...you know we were keeping his body in the estate?”

 

Tandin checks over his shoulder to make sure no one can overhear them. “I laid him out myself.”

 

Dalla looks up at the smoke rising into the sky toward Dxun. Cremation is anathema to Onderonians for that very reason; no one wants the dead to go up to the demon moon at the mercy of the black magic hosted there. “When this burns out, we need to search for his remains. Do you know of any men who could be trusted to keep this quiet?” 

 

“A few,” Tandin considers. “But it’ll take more than them to search a site this large. You’ll need some of your own people.” 

 

“Aye.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “But within some limits. I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell them who it is.” She may have feared Sanjay Rash and she may have hated him, but she will not have him desecrated.  _ Salt gods, I’m going to have to check in the mirror and make sure I’m not turning into my father on the outside too.  _

 

Tandin nods agreement. “I’ll simply tell mine it’s someone who died during the siege. That’s all they need to know.” 

 

“Thank you, General.”  __ She changes the subject. “I’ve been saying that a lot lately. Have you considered what you might like?” 

 

“I have an idea, but I’d still like more time to think on it.”

 

“Of course. Just let me or my father know when you decide.” 

 

“I will,” he promises and checks back on the blaze behind them. “When the fire burns down, I’ll gather my men to search for the body.”

 

…

 

Shara had seen the billowing black clouds rising as she flew with her children and Cade and the pilot General Tandin had hired for them to fly the family size planet hopper to Iziz. After she had distractedly hugged her husband and her eldest son, she set out on a walk to the place where the smoke was still curling into the sky. 

 

She knew the area. She took the market road that she had travelled down so many times making fruit deliveries. It was unrecognizable now.  She had hoped that the time it took on foot might prepare her for the sight of the smoldering ruin but she was sadly wrong.  

 

Part of the wall had come down in the spot where she used to park her cart in the shade. She saw a bit of iron sticking up through the rubble, the picket to which she had sometimes tied Sophia's lead. 

 

She lifted the hem of her skirt as she stepped over the threshold. Then her foot caught on something and she nearly tripped. She bent down to see what it was. She reached out her hand to pick up the twisted piece of black metal and then immediately dropped it again when it burnt her hand. It was the serpent that had once hung on the door and it had just as surely bitten her as if it had been the real living thing. 

 

The hearth of the old kitchen fire was one of the few things still standing, she noticed as she continued further. She was now too assaulted with memories to care much about her long skirt trailing in the ash. And then she saw the the bottom couple of treads of the back stairs. She went and sat and then the dam that had held back her tears burst.

 

It was here she had sat with Sanjay the first time he had kissed her. It was here a year later that Mel had caught them and realized that Shara the dalgos rider was also Shara the fruit seller’s daughter. It was Mel who had then suggested, “How about Shara my sister-in-law?”

 

It must have been her sobbing that alerted Dalla of her presence. “Aunt Shara?” The girl rushed over to her. “I didn't know you had arrived. Is Cade here? All the cousins?”

 

Shara wiped at her telltale tears, leaving streaks of black soot across her cheeks. “They're at the Bonteris’. They're fine.”

 

“Are you alright?” Dalla asked her.

 

Although she nodded shakily, Shara looked anything but alright. “I lived here. It was my home for a year.”

 

“Aunt Shara, you said he didn't love you…” her niece began hesitantly. “But back at the palace we found…”

 

“His sketchbook?” She asked. “He liked drawing. He was quite good.”

 

“Something like that.” Dalla didn't expound on the quantity of artwork.

 

“He did… love me, in his own way. It was me.” Shara sobbed. “I was the one who left. I was the one who broke our vows.”

 

Dalla didn't know how to respond to that but her aunt continued brokenly.

 

“I told your uncle when we met that I should just come back here, that I shouldn't get your family involved.” She pulled the younger woman into a frantic embrace. “I'm so sorry Dalla. All of this is my fault. If I had stayed with him he never would have had reason to…”

 

“But then you would have never married Uncle Jamos.” Dalla countered. “Kason and Emoth and… they would have never been born…” She was at a loss how to help this woman who had always been a rock for their family.

 

And then a deep voice said, “She's in shock.” And someone was shoving past the small group of concerned or just plain curious onlookers.

 

Shara looked up blearily when he arrived. “Geb?”

 

“No ma’am, it’s Saw.” He knelt in front of her. 

 

“Oh Sawyer!” She threw herself at him and they hugged each other tightly in their shared grief. “Steela… I'm so sorry. I held her when she was a baby. I should have kept better in touch. I should have been here for you both when your parents… Edda was so good to me.”

 

“Steela was strong like Momma.” He whispered back to her and then told Dalla. “I’ll take her back to Bonteri's.”

 

Dalla nodded. 

 

Just then a fourth person pushed their way up to their little group. The militiaman gave Shara a polite smile through his bushy mustache. “Shara, it’s good to see you. I trust my pilot delivered you and your children to Iziz safely?”

 

Shara nodded and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Thank you, Grigori. You were always at the Summer Fete with us and I knew you were family, but I didn’t...I never dreamed you would have to do what you did.” 

 

“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” Tandin assured her and raised a bushy eyebrow at Saw and Dalla. 

 

“She’s in shock,” Saw explained, taking Shara’s arm. “I was just taking her back to Bonteri’s, if you wanted to tag along.” 

 

“I can’t.” Tandin lowered his voice and spoke mostly to Dalla. “My men just recovered a set of human remains. We’re still looking for the rest of the bones, but I wanted to let you know we’d found him.” 

 

Saw must have known who “he” was. “How can you be sure? It might be some squatter we hadn’t found yet or someone who wandered in and got trapped.” 

 

Tandin pulled something out of his pocket. “We found this next to the remains. It must have been in his pocket when the fire started.” 

 

Shara watched as he held out a necklace. It may have been charred and covered in soot, but she immediately recognized the rubies made to look like seven writhing snake heads. She’d worn it clasped around her neck for a year and she’d watched Sanjay fasten it around Dalla’s while her niece was barely conscious enough to open her eyes. He’d centered the pendants around her breastbone with a smile when she’d knocked it aside on those few happy days she spent working in her garden, and he’d straightened it on Dalla while he rubbed her back to quiet her and whispered something the holocams didn’t pick up. Shara wouldn’t have been able to hear it anyway, Cade was screaming so loud. 

 

Dalla took a half step back like the snake head pendants would spring to life and sink their fangs into her. “So that’s where it was,” she whispered. 

 

“This is rightfully yours, Shara.” Tandin extended the necklace to her. “I already know Dalla doesn’t want it, and it was originally meant for you. I’m not a jeweler, but it’s worth quite a sum.” 

 

Shara stared at the necklace, still half in shock, and then shook her head. 

 

“I don’t want it,” she said. “Whenever I wore it, it looked like my throat had been cut.” 

 

Tandin wasn’t expecting that. “Very well. In that case, what would you have us do with it?” 

 

After a moment of thought, Shara took the necklace from him and placed it in Saw’s hand. 

 

“You take it,” she said. “Sell it offworld, and do something good with the credits. I think that’s the best we can do.” 

 

Saw blinked, and then nodded and put the necklace back in his own pocket. “I think so too, ma’am. We can work on it when we get back to Bonteri’s. We just need to get Lux and Thias.” 

 

The last bit was easier done than said. Lux and Thias made their way over to the cluster along with a new person, a young Togruta with a bandaged shoulder. 

 

Dalla raised an eyebrow when she saw her. “Ahsoka?” 

 

“Are you surprised?” Ahsoka asked, flashing a smile that instantly reminded Shara of Melaana. 

 

“Yes, we are,” Lux said. “Ahsoka, you’re supposed to be back at my home, resting.” 

 

“Trust me, Lux. That house is no longer restful.” 

 

“How so?” 

 

“Lux?” Shara spoke up and with the speed of light crushed the young man into a hug. “Lux Bonteri, of course! You look just like your father.” 

 

Lux turned bright red and patted her back. “Er, nice to meet you, Mrs. Blackwell.”

 

“You call me Aunt Shara,” she ordered and squeezed him. “Oh, I haven't seen you since you were a baby! How do you know who I am?”

 

Lux sputtered. “I, uh, I saw…”  _ I saw things that I can never unsee.  _ He met Dalla’s eyes over Shara’s shoulder and stared at her. She shook her head. “Dalla told me.”

 

“Of course,” Shara released him. “Well, we have a lot of catching up to do. And I suppose we can't go to Bonteri Estate without you.”

 

…

 

Dalla already knows what Ahsoka meant by “it’s no longer restful.” Any place holding more than a few of her family members is bound to descend into chaos. With all of House Blackwell there, Bonteri Estate doesn't stand a chance. They can hear the chaos unfolding even before they clear the property line. 

 

“Uncle Marlon, can I use your crutches?” A little boy asks excitedly. 

 

“No one is allowed to use Uncle Marlon’s crutches except Uncle Marlon!” Jamos announces for what's probably the tenth time. 

 

“Even just down the hall?”

 

“Yes Arkon, even just down the hall. Marlon, do  _ not  _ tell him otherwise.”

 

Marlon apparently has other concerns. “Jamos, runner!” There's a scuffle and then he speaks again. “Lana Quay, you need to go easier on your Uncle Marlon here.”

 

“Wan’ go out!”

 

“I know, but there’s no one to take you. Let’s look at holos.”

 

As Dalla’s little group makes its way to the front door she spots Cade and Emoth at the front of the house tinkering with the garden hose, for reasons she’d rather not know. But then again, she doesn't much care about their reasons; she’s over Dxun to see her baby brother again. “Cade!”

 

Thias jockeys past Aunt Shara and Saw to her side. “Cade?”

 

Cade turns around and his face screws up with emotion when he sees his brother and sister. He drops the hose and runs for them full tilt and Dalla and Thias open their arms in anticipation of the group hug.  _ “Cade!” _

 

Instead of hugging them, Cade stomps on Dalla’s foot and then punches Thias in the gut.

 

_ “You two suck!” _ He screams. 

 

Dalla instinctively grabs her foot, hopping around on the other while Thias tries to get his wind back. “What?”

 

But Cade is only getting started. “‘We’ll always be there for you, Cade.’ ‘We’re never going to leave you all alone, Cade,’” he says in a high-pitched mockery of their voices. “Well, you lied! You left me all alone at home so you could come down here and join the resistance.”

 

Thias manages to suck some air. “It's not like we were on vacation, Cade.”

 

Cade ignores him. “I thought Rash got you! I thought you were dead!  _ You’re the worst brother and sister ever!” _

 

“Cade!” Dalla silences him. “Cade, I'm sorry. We did what we had to do.”  _ Except for Thias, who was just being reckless.  _ “But there wasn't a day we didn't worry about you. We were so scared Rash would send someone after you --”

 

“Then why didn't you tell me where you were? I thought he was hurting you, and all Emoth and I could do was send him stupid mugs!” The little boy’s shaking with rage. 

 

“Okay, we suck,” Dalla cuts back in. “We’re the worst. We’re just awful.” 

 

“But can you cut us some slack on it?” Thias asks and sticks out a fist. 

 

Cade glares at them a moment longer and then bumps Thias’ fist with his own. “Maybe,” he pouts and then accepts his brother’s hug. 

 

“That’s more like it,” Thias pats Cade’s back. “I’m glad you’re okay, little brother.” 

 

“Me too.” Cade nods and sticks his arm out for Dalla to complete the group hug. He doesn’t have to ask her twice. “And I’m glad you’re not Dalla Rash.” 

 

She kisses the top of his head. “It just doesn’t go together, does it?” 

 

Emoth clears his throat and pushes his black hair out of his eyes. “So what am I? Fish bait?” 

 

“Emoth Oron Blackwell.” Shara fixes him with a playful glare. 

 

“Get over here, Emoth.” 

 

Emoth does. “Missed you guys.”

 

“Missed you too. I take it your brothers and sister are inside?” Dalla doesn't really need to ask. 

 

“We can leave ‘em.”

 

“No, we can't.” Shara points to Tandin. “We have a new cousin to introduce to everyone, and I'm sure your brothers and sister want to see these two again.”

 

Lux walks ahead and punches in the door code to admit them.

 

…

 

_ “Dawa! Tias!” _

 

A tiny shape races down the hall, her little arms held out to the sides as she zooms at top speed. 

 

Dalla drops to a knee and catches the little girl as she runs at her. “Hi there, Lana!” 

 

“You better!” Her little cousin grins with delight. “Momma an’ Daddy say you sick.”

 

“Aye, I'm better.” She tickles Lana and turns her to see the others. “So is Thias.”

 

A little procession forms at the end of the hallway, led by the two missing members of the Blackwell brood, Cornel and Arkon. 

 

“Corns! Ark!” Thias waves them over. 

 

“And Kason. We’re having a reunion, aren't we Lana?” She asks.

 

“Well, everyone but Portia,” Kason says. “Once we get back, it’ll be a complete reunion.”

 

Jamos puts a hand on Kase’s shoulder. “Kason, while you were gone… Portia, she was old, and she went on to the salt gods’ halls for Norcogs.”

 

Kason blinks. “W-what?”

 

“We got a new puppy.” Jamos can't dwell on sadness for long. “Lana named him Kasey, after you! Maris and Nessa are watching him while we’re gone.” 

 

Tandin perks up. “Maris? Maris, the pubkeep?” 

 

“The very one,” Shara confirms and winks at him. “Kids, I’d like you to meet your cousin General Grigori Tandin. He helped Dalla, Thias, and Kason get better.” 

 

Tandin waves at the children. “You all look just like your momma.” 

 

Jamos butts in. “Some of them  _ do  _ take after me.” 

 

“Especially your Emoth,” Tandin agrees. 

 

“And this is Lux Bonteri. He was kind enough to let us stay here, so we all need to say thank you…” 

 

_ “Thank you!”  _

 

“You’re all very welcome,” Lux shrugs. “It would be lonely if I was by myself in this big house.” 

 

Little Lana flashes him a smile with her half-complete set of teeth while Shara introduces the remaining members of their party. “You all remember Ahsoka, and this here is Sawyer. I was friends with his momma and dad.” 

 

“Sawyer?” Arkon brightens and makes his way to Saw’s side. “My middle name is Sawyer!” 

 

“It’s actually Saw,” Saw grumbles. If they were here under any other circumstances than arranging Steela’s funeral, Lux and Dalla would elbow him. 

 

Arkon either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care. “Cool!” 

 

Saw shrugs to that. “It was nice meeting you all. I’m gonna go to my room and --.” He swallows hard. “And make arrangements.” 

 

…

 

It’s been a monster of a last few weeks, and Jamos has learned not to expect much. A complete and utter victory? Too much. His children to all be in the same place for more than thirty standard minutes? Too much. Sanjay Rash to possess both hearing organs and enough decency to not go after a girl young enough to be his daughter after hearing nothing but “no”? Apparently, too much. 

 

However, he felt he could safely bet on having some time alone with his wife after she flew down with all the kids. Unfortunately, that also seems like too much. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Shara’s avoiding him. Just take the first time this morning, when he’d given her his best seduction gaze and she said she needed to help Saw make funeral arrangements. 

 

Okay, so that’s a valid excuse. It had taken Lux, Shara, Dalla, and King Dendup to set up Steela’s funeral; Saw was so upset all he could do was sit on the couch and answer questions while working on a drink. 

 

However, Shara’s excuse of “I have to help wash the dishes” when confronted with Jamos leaning against the door with a rose between his teeth doesn’t sit well with him. 

 

Maybe their argument over the comm was more serious than he thought. Maybe it’s just this place and all the memories of Rash (Jamos prefers to think of him as  _ the Hutt Spawn)  _ weighing on her. 

 

But now he can get to the root of the problem. All the arrangements are made. All the chores are done. His older children are watching a holo with Marlon and King Dendup. Arkon and Lana are with Saw, who’s warmed up to his shadow considerably whenever the baby is around. The last Jamos heard, the young man was telling them that they can call him Uncle Saw -- because he and Dalla were married. Jamos left when Dalla threw a pillow at Saw’s head.

 

He hears Shara punching in the door code and shakes his head to clear it. “Everyone tucked in?” 

 

“Most of them,” Shara avoids his gaze and rifles through her suitcase looking for something or other. “Arkon and Lana are still with Saw and Dalla.” 

 

“Do we need to go  _ censor  _ Saw and Dalla?” Jamos remembers those two bantering back at base camp, and he doesn’t want his kids repeating much of it. 

 

“They’ll censor themselves with the little ones.” 

 

Okay, enough beating around the bush. “Shar? Is there something you want to tell me?” 

 

Shara rolls her eyes. “I’m not pregnant again, Jamos.” 

 

“No, not that. I can tell something’s upsetting you. What’s wrong? Was it something I did?” 

 

“You? No! It’s been a stressful last couple of weeks, and I don’t think any of us are really in sorts.”

 

“I agree.” He takes a few steps closer and reaches out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I just have a feeling it’s more than that.” 

 

“I don’t want any more!” Shara blurts out. 

 

It takes a second for that to sink in for Jamos. “You don’t want any more kids?” 

 

“I can't have any more babies to worry about. I was so worried about Kason and so afraid he'd send someone after the rest of them. The way he looked at Lana..."

 

“He saw our baby girl.” If Sanjay Rash wasn’t already dead, Jamos would go kill him. It was disgusting enough he tried to marry Dalla as young as she is, but the thought of Sanjay looking at his baby girl makes Jamos sick as well as enraged. He must be getting a taste of what Marlon went through watching the execution. 

 

“Sanjay placed a comm to the Hold and Lana ran ahead and answered thinking it was you,” Shara explains. “He saw the ships go down and thought Dalla had died. I confronted him, and he apologized. To me, to Kason, to Dalla, and to the Harkons. I -- we had such a close call this time, with Dalla. This might not have been her choice but what if next time, it is? I can’t let her repeat the mistakes I made. And then Emoth and Cade are doing salt gods know what, and I need to keep an eye on Cornel and his issues and on top of all that, Lana apparently has no fear of speeder traffic!”  Shara paces and twists her hands in agitation. "I should have been there for Sawyer and Steela when their parents died and I can't even imagine leaving poor Lux alone when we go back to the Hold. And then there's your brother! I know he's never fully gotten over losing Lana. And Thias tries to joke and smile but he and Miranda never even had a chance... And you..."

 

She turns to face Jamos with silent tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh Jamos, I can't thank the salt gods enough for sparing your life. I don't know what I would do without you! But I just... I don't have the strength to worry about another baby!"

 

Jamos relaxes immensely. “Salt gods, Shar, if that's what this is about, I'll go get snipped tomorrow! But sweetheart, you are not going through this alone. I'm right here with you, always!”

 

She wipes the tears from her eyes. 

 

“I mean, I did make a vow.” He holds out his arms as if signalling he doesn’t bear weapons and then shrugs. “And I mostly meant it.” 

 

His wife strides across the room, the nonnegotiable northern woman look on her face. 

 

“Oh, you meant it,” she says and reaches up to stroke his beard. “After six proposals, you meant it.” 

 

…

 

Downstairs, Dalla gives Saw a raised eyebrow from the opposite end of the couch. 

 

“So, what gives?” he asks.

 

“You’re corrupting my cousins with your marriage story, that’s what gives.” 

 

“Aw, come on.” He goes for a bottle of juma on the counter and pours himself a glass. “It’s a good story, and little Lana’s face was just priceless. Asking if we had a ‘big big wedding’.”

 

“You told her we had a wedding in a kitchen. Saw, we can’t let that get out! I don’t think you understand --.” 

 

“I don’t think you get that I need to have something good right now.” Saw knocks back his juma in one go. “Even if it is just making a little girl happy for a while. I’ve got to do something to keep my mind off what happened on that cliff.” And then he leans back against the couch valiantly fighting another breakdown. 

 

_ Oh, salt gods. _ Dalla scoots toward him and places a hand on the couch between them. With Saw, who’s ever really sure if he wants to be touched? “I’m sorry.” 

 

He doesn’t hear her. “Every day, I swear this can’t be happening. I keep thinking she’s going to walk around the corner and give me flak for that kitchen thing. Or for going to the palace like an idiot. Or for leaving my caf cup in the sink again.” He grabs the couch cushions for dear life and catches Dalla’s hand. “And the next second I’m deciding what music to play at her funeral.” 

 

“It is kind of surreal.” She doesn’t dare talk about Steela; fearing she’ll tip Saw over the edge. “When my mom died, I called out for her all the time. But in a few weeks, it straightens out.” 

 

“I don’t want it to straighten out.” He doubles over and crushes Dalla’s hand in his grip. “Like this, there are moments I don’t have to think about it.” 

 

_ Not going to lie Saw, I live for the moments I don’t have to think about it either, when hearing the intro to Miranda’s favorite holo show doesn’t open a pit in my stomach or when I think about taking Steela sailing up north. The moments we can pretend it didn't happen.  _

 

She doesn't get a chance to say that even if she wanted to: a sob tears from Saw’s throat and she instinctively wraps him in a hug. 

 

“Saw, I may not be your wife but I’m your friend,” she swears. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, it’s so sad. But at least there’s some happiness coming your way in DK’s next chapter. Two new Blackwells!


	69. Double Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, two new Blackwells and the effect of their arrival on at least one other northern clan. ~ DK

“He’s here!” Shara began her letter. “My nephew Cade Alon Blackwell arrived this evening on the fifth day of the new year.” She knew she wouldn’t be able to send the letter anytime soon. The freeze was upon them so unless a star ship or planethopper dropped by that was willing to carry the post to Bralyk Keep, she’d have to wait till the spring thaw to send it. That was alright though. She could keep adding to the letter till then and she knew she’d have more news to add. 

 

She rubbed her huge belly and went on writing. “We almost thought he’d share his birthday with his older brother but Lana was able to celebrate Thias’s fourth birthday, and Jamos and I’s fourth anniversary and the new year’s dawn before she had any symptoms of beginning labor.” 

 

Shara supposed she could send a holocomm to Suzelle but the old fashioned correspondence had sort of become the hallmark of their friendship. She reached over and picked up the card she’d received just a couple of weeks ago. 

 

“ _ Salt and Light Greetings from the Bralykburns _ ,” it read in fancy Onderonian script. And there was a holostill of Talia in her full midshipman’s uniform standing with her norcog Noodle in front of the Bralyk Keep salt formation. 

 

… 

 

_ Jamos had gotten a good laugh out of it, the very idea of the Bralykburns sending salt and light cards.  _

 

_ “Aye.” Marlon chuckled also when he saw it. “The Harkons got one, too. Glover said the kids were happy to see that the cog doing so well.”  _

 

_ “I think it’s sweet.” Lana put in. “Shows how much good she’s doing for that man.” _

 

_ “But you don’t see him in the image.” Jamos snarked, still unable to see any good in Hugo.  _

 

_ Shara shook her head. “He signed his name. That’s something.”  _

 

_ “Which is more than we did this year.” Marlon frowned. “We should have thought of doing a holocard with an image of the whole family.” _

 

_ “Ugg.” Lana complained rubbing her belly. “You think I want the entire north with a lasting impression of me big as a brylk?” _

 

_ “Next year.” Shara suggested, with a smile. “Everyone will want holos of these two.” She patted her own belly fondly.  _

 

…

 

Several weeks later and Shara understood entirely how uncomfortable her sister-in-law had felt for the entirety of the salt and light celebration. Seeing Lana happily cuddling her newborn and introducing Cade to his older siblings, though, also made her a little jealous to be done. 

 

For months they had joked that Lana would go past her due date and Shara would go early so that their babies would be born closer together or even that Emoth would come first and earn the middle name Alon. Not that Shara begrudged her nephew the honor. She and Jamos had decided on Emoth Oron for their little guy. 

 

“Any time now, my sweet boy,” she whispered, tried to find a more comfortable position and then reached for the personal note that had come with the salt and light card. 

 

“ _ I can’t tell you how happy I was to hear your news. _ ” Suzelle had penned in her elegant hand. “ _ Another healthy boy will be such a fine addition to your family. And it sounds like Kason will be a wonderful big brother. I’m glad he had such a nice second birthday, that you all were able to enjoy your visit with the Harkons, and that you weren’t too worn out by planning the party. I couldn’t believe it when you said that he was already counting to 100 and saying his alphabet. Kason is such a smart boy. I wish I could meet him and the rest of the family _ .” 

 

Shara had invited the Bralykburns to Kason’s birthday celebration but she had known it was a long shot that Hugo would accept. 

 

“ _ Perhaps _ ,” Suzelle continued. “ _ I’ll convince my husband to agree to a visit to Harkon Hall so that Talia can see the twins and we can arrange for your family to just happen to be there at the same time? We will find a way to force these men to lay aside their silly arguments, you and I. I know we will… _ ”

 

Shara went back to her own letter. “I love your idea about a clandestine meeting at the Harkons’. They always celebrate Miranda’s birthday just after the thaw and I’m sure Adria would extend the invitations to your family as well. I know the twins are always a little bored with the games the younger ones want to play and Emoth and Cade should be old enough for a voyage by then.” 

 

She sucked in a breath and held it as her stomach tightened. The contraction wasn’t painful but it was more intense than… When had she had the last one? It was… She glanced at the chrono on her husband’s desk where she had been seated to go over her correspondence. And how long had she been at this? Had it truly been an hour? And this was her… third contraction in that time. 

 

With a smile, Shara tapped the comm unit that was sitting on the desk next to her flimzywork. 

 

Jamos’s image popped right up even though he was currently up to his elbows in a sink of sudsy water where he and Kason were washing the supper dishes. “ _ Hello Love! Hey Kase, look it’s Momma _ .” 

 

“ _ Watch Momma! _ ” The toddler grinned and brought both his hands down flat against the surface of the water. The resulting splash soaked both he and his father.

 

“ _ Woah! You’ll drown us both, little matey _ .” 

 

“ _ Sorry, Daddy _ ,” Kason giggled. 

 

“ _ That’s alright, kiddo. You needed a bath before bed anyway _ .” Jamos scooped up his son and grinned at Shara through the holo unit. “ _ I was just about to do that unless you needed something? _ ” 

 

Shara smiled. “Well, I don’t think I need anything right now but I just realized since I’ve been sitting here, I’ve had about three contractions.”

 

She had his full attention. “ _ You haven’t been in there that long _ .” 

 

“I know. About an hour.”

 

“ _ So that would be what? About twenty minutes between? _ ” He asked, grabbing a towel and attempting to mop up he and his son distractedly. 

 

“I guess so.” she hurried to downplay the severity of the situation. “They haven’t been painful at all. I just thought I ought to start timing them.” 

 

“ _ Aye. Do that. Are you sure you don’t need anything? I can get Lana or Marl to _ …” 

 

“No. I’m fine.” Shara shook her head. “I’m just going to finish up here and then I’ll meet you in Kase’s room to put him down after his bath.” She laughed. “That is if he still needs one.” 

 

“ _ Aye, I think we may have missed a spot right… there _ .” Jamos tickled his son. Kason giggled but Jamos’ focus quickly went back to his wife. “ _ You think this might really be it? _ ”

 

“Could be.” She was starting to get excited now. She couldn’t wait to meet her new little boy.

 

…

 

After straightening up her things in the office and meeting her husband and freshly bathed son in the nursery for a good night kiss, that turned into a storyholo and singing his favorite lullaby five times through, Shara had logged 4 more contractions. She couldn’t begrudge her firstborn a little extra attention tonight, especially if it was to be his last night as an only child. 

 

They had already moved him from his crib to the little toddler size bed that Thias had recently grown out of. He still looked so little with his golden curls circling his head like a halo on the pillow. Shara knew he would look huge next to his new brother when they brought the baby home. 

 

Jamos had to help her to stand from the spot where she was crouched next to the bed and as he did her stomach muscles tightened again and she grasped his arm for support. 

 

“This one worse than the others?” he asked in a whisper so as not to wake their son.

 

“I think so.” She could still speak through it so it couldn’t be that bad, but still as many as she had had and how regular they were had to count for something. “Check the chrono.” She panted as the pressure eased.

 

“Fifteen minutes again, or close to. I think we ought to go to Niamh’s tonight.” He wasn’t taking any chances. She had delivered Thias on her own but Jamos didn’t trust himself to do the same after the way he had nearly fainted when Kason was on the way. 

 

Shara nodded. “My bag is packed in our room.” Not that they couldn’t get whatever they needed sent up to the midwife’s office from the Hold. “Do you think Kase will be alright?” She reached down once more to brush back a lock of hair from his forehead. 

 

“He’s sleeping now.” Jamos whispered urgently, ready to be on their way. “We’ll ask Marl and Lana to keep an ear out incase he wakes up. They’ll bring him up to your room in the morning and he can meet his new brother.”

 

“Aye.” 

 

But in the time it took them to get signed in to the birthing center and hooked up to monitors, the contractions seemed to have stopped. The nurses kept her overnight for observation and sent her home again in the morning still very much pregnant. 

 

“Where’s my brother?” Kason asked sleepily when they returned. 

 

“Still in Momma’s belly.” his father mussed the boy’s hair. 

 

Emoth rolled in his comfortable surroundings as if he had no intention of ever being evacuated. 

 

Shara sighed. “Only a couple more weeks.”

 

“If he doesn’t decide to come on his own before that.” Jamos reminded her. 

 

“Two week or less,” she agreed. 

 

… 

 

But just like with his older brother Emoth Oron Blackwell had to be coaxed out into the world. His eyes were bloodshot and his faced bruised as if he had put up a fight but he was perfectly healthy. 

 

“I think he might be a little taller than Kase was.” Shara laughed through her happy tears when Niamh placed the tiny miracle in her arms. And she was proven correct. He measured out to be exactly the same birth weight as his brother but had half a centimeter on him in length. 

 

Introducing Emoth to Kason and their cousins was just as special as Shara had dreamed it would be. Of course they took a million holos and she documented everything for Suzelle in her ever lengthening letter.

 

… 

 

Suzelle had eagerly awaited the arrival of the first ship carrying post when the freeze finally ended. She was already ripping open the flimzy and had drawn out the first sheet of handwritten text when she got back to the Keep holdfast from the dock where she had collected the fat envelope. She hardly acknowledged her husband as she swept through the dining room engrossed in the events of the past 3 months since the last time she had heard from her friend. 

 

“What’s her problem?” Hugo huffed.

 

Talia smiled. “She finally got a letter from Lady Blackwell.”

 

He harrumphed in response. Hugo didn’t particularly like the friendship that had been developing between the two women but he didn’t begrudge his wife her own social life. She was stuck up here with he and Talia at the Keep after all and she had never complained in the nearly a year of their marriage. “Didn’t we already get the birth announcement holo from Blackhold a couple of months ago?”

 

“Aye.” Talia watched the way her stepmother gazed at the holos of the two new baby boys with their siblings. “But Lady Blackwell will have sent her more details than just what went out in the general announcement.” 

 

Hugo returned, seemingly disinterested, to the holonews on his data pad.

 

His daughter, however wasn’t done with the conversation. "Papa you know your anniversary is coming up."

 

“Anniversary of what?” he asked, not looking up.

 

“Your and Suzelle's wedding.”

 

“Oh that. Aye.” He nodded vaguely. “Guess I'd better get her something. Or I could take her down to let her pick something out herself in Iziz.”

 

“I think I know what she'd really like.” Talia pointed to where Suzelle was staring at dreamily at the images of the infants.

 

Hugo glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “What do you know about such things?”

 

“I know you love her.” Talia pressed.

 

Hugo grumbled, “I loved your mother.”

 

“Never asked you to stop loving momma,” His daughter could be every bit as tenacious as he could. “... but she's with the salt gods. Suzelle's right here and she can love you back.” She waited a moment for a response and when she failed to get one she sighed and rolled her eyes. “I've gotta get ready to leave for my voyage tomorrow.”

 

“What? Oh, aye.” Hugo was studying his wife now. She was his wife. He did have feelings for her even though he had never acted on them. He’d let her have her space choosing to shower her with gifts rather than physical affection. Still if it was a child she desired, he supposed he could attempt to provide a solution. If that’s what she wanted…

 

…

 

Suzelle devoured every word and image that Shara had shared with her. “ _ I know it has seemed like Hugo has taken forever to warm up to you and your presence in his home. From everything Jamos and Marlon and Lana have told me about him, I know he’s a stubborn man. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. He’s protective, and he’s loyal to his family and he’s made his vows to you. He’ll come around and when he does I pray that the salt gods will give you a double blessing _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talia mentioned having sisters way back in the chapter Jamos goes to the Harkons’. Hmm… Perhaps we’re about to find out a little more about these mysterious Bralykburns…


	70. Coventry Carol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That woe is me, poor child for thee
> 
>  
> 
> And ever morn and day
> 
>  
> 
> For thy parting nor say nor sing
> 
>  
> 
> Bye bye, lu li lu lay.
> 
>  
> 
> There’s been so much sadness and death on Onderon and not enough time to put things in their rightful place. It’s time to bid the dead goodbye — without adding to the body count. - LS

The first thing Dalla hears the next morning is “oh, you are in so much trouble.”

 

The words come nanoseconds after a jetstream of icy cold water wakes her from what was, if she’d say so herself, some well-deserved sleep. Cade and Emoth stand in the doorway, squirt guns in hand. 

 

“What was that for?” she demands between muttered swear words.  

 

“Dalla, you’re so dead.” Cade says.

 

“Why am I so dead?” she asks, wiping the water from her face. “What time is it? Did I miss something?” 

 

Emoth’s eyes are like saucers. “You wish.”

 

“What is it?” She puts an elbow on her pillow and … it moves. 

 

Filled with dread, Dalla looks down. Saw Gerrera, whose shoulder she was just using as a pillow, is sound asleep on the couch despite the rude wake-up call.  _ We must have passed out exhausted last night, after talking and grieving as long as we did. And -- kriff, Double Trouble! _

 

“Guys, this isn’t what it looks like,” she scrambles off Saw, who snores in response. How he can sleep through squirt guns is beyond her. “We just fell asleep on the couch. Nothing bad happened.” 

 

“Good luck telling that to Father.” 

 

“Father doesn’t need to know.” 

 

Cade shakes his head. “Father already knows.” 

 

Just then there's a commotion upstairs and Marlon Blackwell bellows  _ “Jamos, where did you put my blaster batteries?” _

 

Dalla jumps off the couch and shakes Saw’s shoulder. “Saw, wake up!” 

 

Saw just snores. And Dalla thought she slept like a rock. “Cade, Emoth, squirt him!”

 

Emoth and Cade look at each other in disbelief, and then decide to just roll with it. They lift their squirt guns and loose what looks like half a lake at Saw’s face.

 

Saw wakes up sputtering and trying to block the stream with his hands. Dalla waves off Double Trouble before he can lunge at them on instinct alone. 

 

“What the hell?” He demands as soon as he’s done spitting water out of his mouth. 

 

Dalla cuts to the chase. “Saw, you need to find a place to hide.”

 

“What the --?”

 

“We fell asleep on the couch and my father saw us just a few minutes ago. He’s upstairs looking for batteries to put in the blaster!”

 

Saw scrambles off the couch with the speed of light. “Kriff, we didn't do anything!”

 

“Thus you need to hide so I can explain without him blasting you!” She puts her hands on Saw’s shoulders to shove him out of the room but before they even hit the door, Marlon appears at the end of the hall. With the blaster rifle. 

 

Dalla steps in front of Saw like a human shield. “Father, it’s not what it looks like.” 

 

“Then what is it, Dalla?” Marlon cocks the blaster. “I thought I’d taught you better than this. And  _ you!”  _ He swivels his aim to Saw. “At first I thought you were a good man, but apparently I was wrong. You took advantage of my daughter, and believe me when I say I’ll do everything to you that I wanted to do to Sanjay Rash!” 

 

“He didn’t do anything!” She holds her hands out in surrender. “Saw and I were up late last night talking about Steela, we were exhausted and we fell asleep on the couch. Nothing else happened, I swear it. Look! We even have our shoes on!” 

 

Marlon isn’t buying. “I might have dismissed one incident as a misunderstanding, but two? I heard about the kitchen.”

 

“I’m gonna kill Hutch,” Saw grumbles under his breath. 

 

Marlon glares at him. “Why do you think you get a say in this?” 

 

“Because I’m being falsely accused! Nothing happened here or in the kitchen. Hutch, he blows things out of proportion. It was one kiss, for good luck on a mission.” 

 

“So you did touch my daughter.”

 

“Well I’m not a Jedi, so yeah there was physical contact --” 

 

“Saw, drop the shovel,” Dalla whispers. 

 

Saw wisely shuts up. If anything, his testimony’s made Marlon angrier. Luckily, Dalla remembers something else about that kitchen. “There was a witness,” she says and then shouts down the hallway:  _ “Lux? We need you, now!”  _

 

_ “I’m busy!”  _

 

“Kriff whatever you’re doing, Bonteri, it’s an emergency!” Saw yells. 

 

There’s a commotion upstairs and they hear a door slam. About thirty seconds later Lux appears on the top of the staircase, soaking wet and clad in nothing but a towel around his waist and a shower Mohawk. 

 

He sighs, not looking at the spectacle unfolding beneath him. “What reasons do you have for interrupting my first hot shower in months? Is there a fire? Is someone bleeding from the head?” 

 

“I'm about to be. Look down!”

 

Lux does and races down the stairs. “Oh, gods. Lord Marlon, I will not have shooting in my house!”

 

Dalla skips that bit. “Lux, tell him what happened in the kitchen.”

 

“What, the kiss? That was nothing but innocent, Hutch exaggerated it.” Lux swipes a hand through his hair to destroy the shower Mohawk. 

 

“Of course you would say that; you’re his friend.” 

 

“I swear on my father’s grave nothing happened.”

 

Just then Ahsoka skids around the corner from where she was probably having breakfast in the kitchen. “What’s going on?” 

 

Dalla could hug her right now. “Ahsoka was there too! Saw didn’t do anything in the kitchen or now.”  _ Jedi are peacekeepers, right? Well salt gods, we need a peacekeeper!  _

 

Realization dawns on Ahsoka and she cautiously edges her way between Marlon and Saw. “Lord Marlon, you have the same prescription for pain medication that I do, and the bottle says one of the side effects is emotional imbalance and impaired judgement. Might that have something to do with this?” 

 

Dalla’s willing to bet her inheritance it does.

 

Marlon readjusts his aim. “This is a case of a man taking advantage of my daughter.” 

 

“Pardon me, my lord, but I find that very hard to believe. Saw treated his sister like a queen, and he’s shown nothing but respect and friendship toward Dalla and I. This honestly doesn’t sound like something he would do.” 

 

“Because I didn’t!” 

 

“Saw,  _ stop talking,”  _ Lux beseeches.

 

“Father, please,” Dalla begs. “Please just put down the blaster and we can talk about this.” Marlon lowers his aim just a little, which does nothing for Dalla’s nerves. If anything, he's aiming for the part of Saw he really wants to hit. Since she’s the only person he for sure won't shoot, she tries again. “This isn't like you. It's the pain meds.”

 

“This day is going to be hard enough as it is,” Ahsoka reasons. “Let’s not make it any worse.”

 

…

 

It's no use. Marlon doesn't drop the blaster until Jamos walks in on the scene from the front door. After a quick explanation from Marlon and then a markedly calmer one from Lux, he shakes his head. “Aye, I saw them asleep on the couch when I left for the medcenter first thing this morning. Sleeping is all they were doing, Marl. I got a whole lot further with Shara back in the day when you were supposed to be chaperoning us.”

 

“You stay out of this!” Marlon snaps. “And just what were you doing at the medcenter first thing this morning? I thought you’d made it through the battle unscathed.”

 

“I did too. But it turned out I had this internal issue I needed to get checked out.” He winces and discreetly adjusts his pants. “Still have some recovery to do. But that’s beside the point. There's no reason to blast Saw here.”

 

Marlon narrows his eyes at Saw, but he puts the safety on the blaster and lowers it. 

 

“Next time, I’ll use you as bait,” he swears and stalks away as best he can on crutches. 

 

Saw breathes a huge sigh of relief. “Oh my gods, my life just flashed before my eyes.”

 

“Thank you, Uncle Jamos and Ahsoka, for saving him,” Dalla says. 

 

“Not a problem,” Ahsoka says. “I was just getting ready.”

 

Lux is already halfway up the stairs. “I'm going to finish my shower. Please let me know about any other attempted shootings.”

 

“Duly noted, Lux.” Ahsoka gestures for him to hurry along and waits for Saw to slink off to get himself ready. “And Dalla, General Tandin said something about needing you and your aunt for an errand. Any idea what that’s about?” 

 

_ She knows. We didn’t tell her, but she knows.  _

 

“Please don’t tell the guys,” she whispers. “They can’t take it, not now. Not today.” 

 

“I won’t,” she promises. “My masters are landing in a few standard hours; I don’t think they’ll ask after any of you but if they do, I’ll tell them you’re taking care of personal business.”

 

…

 

Like Lux said, the Rash Estate fire really was a blessing in disguise. Dalla has no idea how they were going to move Sanjay Rash’s corpse from the speeder to the river without getting an audience, but the bones which remain don’t take up much space. Just enough to occupy the middle of the rowboat wrapped in a black shroud.

 

She and Shara sit at the stern of the rowboat, Tandin at the bow. He’s a shaky sailor at best and the last thing they need is someone pointing and laughing at them on this particular errand because he capsized the boat. Dalla doesn’t mind rowing, anyway. It keeps her hands busy so she doesn’t fidget from the uncomfortable situation. She doesn't want to be here, Tandin doesn't want to be here, Shara  _ really  _ doesn't want to be here, yet here they are. The last person to see him alive, the closest thing he had to a friend, and the only woman he thought about for almost twenty years. 

 

Shara speaks up. “I think we’re in deep enough water, Dalla.” 

 

Dalla stops rowing and turns her attention to the shroud in the middle of the boat. All three of them sit in silence, wondering what they should say or do. 

 

“He’d like it here,” Tandin says after a minute. “You can smell the fruit from the orchards.” 

 

“Aye, he’d like that. When he saw mine for the first time I thought he would collapse from sheer joy.” Shara smiles sadly at the memory. “It’s nice and quiet too. He said that was the one thing he liked about the jungle, besides the fact he was in it with me.” 

 

Dalla jumps on the distraction. “You never mentioned taking him out to the jungle.” 

 

“He only went out once,” Shara says. “He was the family witness for his sister’s wedding, and to give her and her husband an alibi we took our vows the same day. We spent the night in a caretaker’s cottage and then went back into the city with them. In retrospect, the only good thing about that day was that Mel was so happy.” 

 

“He only had the one sister, Melaana? He said I reminded him of her.”  

 

Tandin blinks. “I only had the pleasure of meeting her once, so I don’t really see it,” he admits. “But if he mentioned it at all, it must be there. He never spoke of her while I worked for him.” 

 

“He was devastated when she died,” Shara explains. “And Dalla looks nothing like her. But I see some of it. They have the same willpower, the same strength. That must have been what he recognized.” She looks at the shroud. “I hope he’s with her now. They both would have wanted that.” And with that she swallows hard and begins to sing. It’s a simple tune, one Dalla hasn’t heard before but seems familiar to Tandin. 

 

_ “The child learns his father’s way.  _

 

_ He seeks his guidance through the day. _

 

_ And from his path he’d never stray.  _

 

_ The child loves his father.”  _

 

Dalla stares at her aunt. No question about it, that’s the song Sanjay wanted her to sing on his deathbed. “I’ve never heard you sing that before,” she says, trying not to sound like she’s digging for information. “Where did it come from?” 

 

“I sang it to him on our wedding night. I had hoped to one day teach it to our children,” Shara explains. “I so badly wanted what Geb and Edda had, what my parents had had before my mother died. Funny thing is I don't think Sanjay really wanted a child at all at the time. He wanted me. I wanted a family, his mother wanted an heir. He figured he'd knock out two gulls with one stone.” 

 

Dalla looks to her feet. “He did say he wanted children while he was...dying.” 

 

“Aye. I suppose as he got older he did want the experience of holding his own child in his arms. Perhaps seeing Kason also... He saw what he had missed out on.” She gives Dalla an apologetic look. “He wanted to give you that too, must have thought that since it was what I wanted when I was your age that all girls…”

 

“I knew that’s what he wanted, but he thought  _ I  _ did too? Salt gods! I’m not ready to be a mother!” 

 

Shara laughs. “Really missed the boat, that one.”

 

Dalla smiles but grows serious again. “It’s so sad. He wasted his whole life wishing for something he could never have.” 

 

Her aunt hugs her, carefully so they don’t tip the boat. “Aye, that he did.” 

 

Dalla lets her go and speaks before there can be another long silence. “Should we say the words?” 

 

Tandin shakes his head. “I don’t know them.” 

 

Shara nods. 

 

“We asked for Sanjay and he was given,” Dalla begins. That’s the easy part. “Those of us here today don’t have many happy memories of him. General Tandin defected from him in the name of honor, Aunt Shara endured the worst from him, and I feared and hated him since the day he demanded my hand. But in the end, when he was faced with death, he tried to atone for what he did. And that’s really all any of us can do.” 

 

Shara speaks up. “He was a devoted son and brother. He loved his sister to the stars and back, and he would do anything for her. And...he tried very hard to uphold his marriage vows,” she adds almost guiltily.

 

“Shara, you can't blame yourself for that,” Tandin says. Shara nods. Maybe she’s agreeing with Tandin, maybe with herself, but he doesn’t push it. “I didn’t know much in regards to Sanjay’s personal life, but from what I did see he tried to do whatever he thought was best. He may have had the wrong idea of what that was, but he always tried.”

 

“I guess that’s the core of it,” Dalla sighs. “He tried to help his sister. He tried to hold onto Aunt Shara. He tried to become a father. He tried to be a stepfather to Kason. He tried to marry me. He tried to do a lot of things, but he either couldn’t or he didn’t know how to do them right.” 

 

“He tried to be a good person,” Shara concludes. “He did some awful things, and this doesn’t vindicate him of those deeds, but we know the salt gods are merciful. We ask you to show Sanjay your mercy, and welcome him to your halls for eternity.” 

 

Each of them takes hold of the shroud and lifts it out of the boat, setting it gently into the river. 

 

As the water closes over it Shara and Dalla press a thumb to their lips and extend their palms. “In the light of the salt gods.” 

 

Tandin tentatively repeats the gesture. “In the light of the salt gods.” 

 

…

 

Shara knows Dalla and Tandin are worried about her walking through the jungle by herself after Sanjay’s burial. When she first told them of her plan, Dalla offered to walk with her. Shara had refused her offer immediately, with the convenient excuse that Dalla and rupings don’t mix well. Tandin had offered next, and Shara politely turned him down as well. This is something she needs to do on her own, without having to worry about her children or her niece or her cousin. 

 

She can see them now rowing down the river, Dalla no doubt cajoling Tandin to tell her or Marlon what he wants. Shara smiles thinking about that; Tandin should have learned by now that there’s no stopping Dalla once she sets her mind to something. 

 

A ruping’s cry snaps her back to the planet’s surface and she follows the sound to a beast circling in the sky, its rider a silhouette against the sky. Her heart catches in her throat. It’s been years since she saw him, but even with the time and the distance she recognizes her beast rider “brother.” She waves to him even though she knows he probably won’t wave back. 

 

To Shara’s utter shock the beast banks into a descent and lands in a nearby clearing. Shara triples her speed into a headlong run off the path. The underbrush tears at her long skirt but she doesn’t care a bit. It’s nothing a needle and some patience can’t fix. 

 

He’s still in the saddle when she breaks into the clearing, smiling at her sadly. 

 

Shara beams. “Bremon!”

 

The older man smiles and slides off the saddle to greet her on equal footing. “I was hoping I’d get to -- oof!” He stiffens in Shara’s sudden, attacking hug. 

 

Almost sheepishly, she lets him go. Perhaps Marlon’s penchant for hugging has rubbed off on her. “I couldn’t help myself. It’s so good to see you, Brem.” 

 

“You too.” The old Brem would have smiled at the next bit, but this weathered man only manages a nod. “You’ve gotten older. And...northern.” 

 

“You just noticed now?” She jests but when he doesn’t laugh she changes the subject. “Thank you for taking care of Kason, Brem. I was so worried until Jamos commed me to let me know where he was.” Frayl the ruping pokes past Brem and nuzzles up to Shara eager to be petted. Shara obliges him, overjoyed to be near any ruping but especially her old friend after being separated from the magnificent beasts for so long. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch you and Frayl when you dropped them off.” 

 

“I had to leave,” Bremon explains vaguely. He seems much more at ease now that Shara’s petting the ruping and not addressing him directly. “Kason’s a good kid. He has a gift with the animals, like you and your father. He would have been a rider if he was born here.”

 

“Aye. He's always been good with the norcogs.” She sighs. “Our Portia passed on while he was down here. They grew up together, almost like she was his big sister. He's really going to miss her.”

 

“I missed  _ my _ sister when she went up north.” 

 

“I missed you too, Brem.” She gives him a sad smile before broaching the next topic. “You know who else is missing his sister and could really use your support? Saw…”

 

Bremon’s face falls. “I know. I should go into the city. But I just... They want to make me king, Shar! I might have once when Mel... When Melaana was by my side I could have taken on the Galaxy.”

 

Shara stops petting Frayl and lays a hand on his arm. “Aye. Mel had a strength beyond all of us.” 

 

He nods. “And the child, my child... Maybe I was wrong trying to get her away from my uncle. Maybe it was her power we needed when the separatists came. And she would have been … Shara, I had to leave Bonteri’s without seeing you because your brother-in-law answered the door.” 

 

“Marlon?” Shara doesn’t understand. “Bremon, Marlon doesn’t care about that feud nonsense! Especially not after what you’ve done for our family.” 

 

“It wasn’t him,” Brem shakes his head. “He was nothing but grateful, thanked me over and over for taking care of his son. But then his girl walked in reading the directions off a prescription bottle for him, reminding him about his dosage. Remember when Melaana did little things like that? Any child of hers would look after her old man the same way. I couldn’t stay watching the two of them. When I saw your niece, when I look at Steela... And now Steela's gone too…”

 

With that he breaks down into sobs and Shara hugs him. 

 

“They’re holding a state funeral this afternoon and then we’re going to take her to the Rider’s cemetery, where she belongs,” she says. “But if you can’t make it, or if you can only fly overhead, I know she’d understand.” 

 

Bremon doesn’t respond and Frayl nuzzles the two of them, sensing his rider’s distress. 

 

Shara opens an arm to let the ruping in. If anyone can bring Brem comfort that she can’t, it’s Frayl. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Brem.”

 

…

 

Shara arrives back at Bonteri estate on the back of a dalgos, beaming and looking as if it’s the most natural thing for her in the galaxy. 

 

As soon as Dalla catches sight of her and the beast she backs away fast and shields her cousins behind her but it’s no use. Kason, fearless and half Beast Rider, shoves past her and brings all his siblings with him. 

 

Lana zooms ahead of all of them despite Kason’s best efforts. “Beastie! Beastie!” 

 

Shara brings the dalgos to a stop and dismounts in time to scoop up her daughter. “Yes Lana, beastie. Her name is Luna, and she’s Sophia’s granddaughter. Do you remember Momma’s stories about Sophia?” 

 

“I do!” Jamos grins and tries to come up to the dalgos, but Luna snorts at him and he backs away before she can rear next to his young children. Shara smiles apologetically.  _ Sorry love, but it seems like there’s no such thing as an honorary beast rider.  _

 

Marlon and his two older kids know that’s the case but Cade’s come up to the dalgos with Emoth. To Shara’s shock, Luna doesn’t seem to have any trouble with him at all. 

 

_ He’s a beast master,  _ she reminds herself.  _ He’s always had the touch with the brylks just like I have. No wonder Luna likes him too.  _

 

Dalla isn’t convinced. “Cade, get back here before that thing bites your head off!” 

 

Cade rolls his eyes. “Come on Dalla, she’s nice!” 

 

“Why is she so fat?” Arkon asks. 

 

Cade and Emoth smirk to each other but Shara beats them to the punch. “Luna is going to have a little baby dalgos,” she explains. “And we’re going to take care of her until she has the foal. Cornel, do you want to pet Luna?” 

 

Cornel gingerly touches Luna’s mane with his fingertips, then divides it into equal sections in his hands. Luna doesn’t seem to mind so Shara turns her attention back to the mare’s swollen belly. 

 

“It’s almost your time, isn’t it girl?” she says and pats Luna’s flank. 

 

“Almost time for something else too.” Marlon speaks up from his place safely back with his non-beast master children. “Lux took Saw to the palace already. Steela’s funeral is in a few hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s high time Sanjay was laid to rest, and Steela as well. Though her funeral may have a few more unexpected guests.


	71. Building Bridges, Burning Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little time has passed. Dalla is 8 ½ now. Thias just turned 6. Kason is 4 and double trouble are just about to enter their terrible twos. Life is busy at the Hold so we’ll take a detour Bralyk Keep. ~ DK

“Women! The bane of my existence!” said Hugo but there was no malice in it. He was squeezing Suzelle’s hand and he only left off gazing at the image on the sonogram screen to throw her an excited grin. 

 

“Both of the baby girls are growing healthy and strong,” Sheela, the Keep’s midwife who had delivered Talia into the world, assured them. 

 

“That’s the most important thing.” Suzelle brushed happy tears from her eyes with her free hand. This was the best salt and light gift he could have ever given her, or her to him.  

 

Hugo brought the hand he was holding to his lips and kissed it gently. “They’re going to be beautiful just like their mother.” 

 

Suzelle couldn’t say that he had changed exactly.  This tender, caring soul had always been there beneath the gruff exterior. It had just taken her a while to coax it out of him. “I wish Talia could be here with us to see this.”

 

The freeze had come early this year, a full week before the first night of salt and light. It had caught his daughter and her crew away from the Keep. At least she had been safe at Harkon Hall and Talia could wait out the season with friends. She confessed that she had sailed there to see if there might be a fresh litter of norcog pups so that she could bring one home for her new brother or sister. 

 

It wasn’t easy being away from his girl for the holiday, even though she was nearly fourteen now and a responsible second mate. There was the other thing, though, about the Harkons having a nearly fourteen year old boy in the Hall. Well, Suzelle had assured him that she and Talia had had a nice long talk about that and they were still too young to be thinking of anything of that sort, anyway. 

 

“We’ll send her a holo,” Hugo beamed. “Tell her to bring back two of the fur balls with big pink bows on their collars.”

 

Suzelle laughed and then sobered slightly. “There’s someone else I’d like to share the news with…” she knew it was still a touchy subject, “Shara?”

 

He was silent for a moment before he nodded. “Aye. If you’d like.” Then he smiled again. “Dxun, if you’d like to have her over for a visit in the spring, I don’t mind.” 

 

“Really?” She couldn’t believe it. There had been so many times in the last couple of years that the two friends had tried to get together but the weather or the season or just the general business of life had gotten in the way.

 

“Aye.” He nodded again more sure of the idea. “I know it means a lot to ye.” 

 

“Oh, Hugo, it does! It would mean the world to me!” She pulled him into a hug, made awkward in the presence of the midwife who hadn’t yet finished all of her scans. 

 

The gruff man cleared his throat and laughed. “Kriff, we’ll have her bring the whelp and the whole crew.”

 

“Now, you can’t call him that.” Suzelle swatted his arm but the smile couldn’t be erased from her face. “And you’re going to have to clean up that language in front of your daughters. I don’t have enough hands to cover all their ears.”

 

“Aye, aye, Ma’am. I’ll do my best.” He kissed her before stepping back to let the midwife finnish her exam.  

 

…

 

Shara had news of her own that she’d been dying to tell. Only her husband knew about the positive test she’d taken just after Kason’s 4th birthday. They’d agreed to keep it a secret and to only tell the immediate family during salt and light so that they could include the blessing in their new year’s prayers. 

 

Jamos had told everyone he was only going along to Niamh’s for her regular yearly exam because he was bored since the frost had come so soon this year. Lier. Like anyone could be bored in a holdfast with five children under the age of nine, all excited about salt and light, and birthdays, and the new year.  And no one could miss his beaming smile when the two of them came back after they got the report that he or she was measuring right on schedule and had a healthy heartbeat. 

 

“Oh.” Shara pouted playfully at her husband. “Can’t I at least tell Suzelle? She’ll be so excited that we’re both having little ones next summer.” 

 

“No.” Jamos laughed. “Absolutely not. She’ll tell Bralykburn and then he’ll tell the whole planet and we won’t get to surprise anyone.” 

 

“I guess so but it will be absolutely forever till the thaw!” she complained.

 

“You sound like Emoth.” He tapped her nose. “Let’s worry about getting he and Kase ready for a new little brother or sister. The thaw will be here before you know it.”

 

…

 

No one expected for the first ship to enter Blackhold harbor after the freeze had lifted, to be flying Bralykburn banners. It had been years since any ship of that designation had even attempted to sail beyond the Hold’s gates. But it wasn’t coming from the direction of the Keep and it was flying all the flags of peace and truce. No weapons were to be seen on the deck.

 

Most surprising of all, however, was the lanky, young, female second mate who bounded down the gangplank as soon as it hit the dock requesting excitedly to speak to Lady Shara Blackwell.

 

Shara, as soon as she heard, dropped what she was doing and found someone to keep an eye on the children. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and ran for the pub where she had been told the visitor was waiting for her. She knew who it must be from the description and though she had never met the girl, she felt like she knew her from Suzelle’s letters. 

 

“Talia!” she exclaimed as she blew in through the pub door with a cold rush of wind. She hugged the girl in welcome just as she would have Dalla if her niece had just returned from a long voyage. 

 

“Lady Blackwell.” Talia backed away, a little embarrassed by the greeting and gave her an awkward curtsy in her fishing leathers, trying to remember what her step-mother had taught her about addressing nobility. 

 

“Now, come on.” Shara took her hand and led the younger girl to a booth. “Please call me Shara, and you must tell me all the news!”

 

They sat and Lady Blackwell put a hand to her gently swelling belly as she squeezed into the seat. This woman was nothing like what Talia had expected from her father’s angry ranting. She was pleased that Suzelle’s impression had been the more correct. 

 

“Well, I didn’t come from the Keep. I was stuck at Harkon Hall for the whole freeze. I went there to see if they might have a cog pup for me to bring back for the baby.” A grin broke out over her features. “Or babies I mean! She’s having twins! I’m going to have twin sisters!” 

 

Shara half gasped and half squealed with delight. “A double blessing indeed!” She laughed and shook her head. “You must tell her I couldn’t be more happy for her, for all of you!” 

 

“I will.” Talia dropped her gaze down to the table and then looked back up inquisitively. “That’s partly why I stopped off here at the Hold. I was sure you’d have a letter for her that I could bring back with me.”

 

“I do.” Shara nodded. “But it’s back up at the holdfast and i’ll have to gather the holos I meant to send with it.” 

 

“I can wait. I’m sure the crew would enjoy a little shore leave before we continue. And…” again she paused hesitantly. “I wondered if you might want to come along for a visit. Suzelle would love to see you and she asked Papa and… he agreed.” 

 

“Oh.” Shara sat back against the padded wall of the booth with an expression of surprise. “Well I’m sure they would rather follow a more formal flow of invitations and acceptance and scheduling… instead of just finding me on their doorstep.”

 

Talia bit her lip in disappointment. 

 

Shara sighed. “Now, Talia, it was a wonderful thought.” She reached across the table and patted the girl’s hand. “I would very much like to go and see your stepmother.” 

 

“But you can’t travel because you’re…” Talia gestured toward Shara’s belly that was hidden under the edge of the table.

 

“I am.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I’ve wanted to tell Suzelle for so long. It’s all in my letter to her.”

 

The girl perked up a bit.

 

“And I haven’t been restricted from travel. So…”

 

“It might still be possible for you to come!” Talia beamed. 

 

Shara nodded and smiled back at her. “I’ll wait until I get an official invitation from the Keep just to make sure your Papa hasn’t changed his mind. And my husband might take some convincing as well.” She gave the girl a playful grimace. 

 

Talia laughed. “I hope they can finally be friends.”

 

“So do I.” Shara gestured to Maris to bring them each something non-alcoholic before she continued. “Were you able to get cog pups for your sisters?”

 

“No.” Talia frowned. “Ephraim doesn’t think they’ll get another litter till late summer. I might have to go back and pick a couple of them out then.

 

Shara thought she detected just a hint of color blooming in the cheeks of the young girl when the boy’s name was mentioned but she didn’t pry. “Well, there’s not much a newborn could do with a norcog so it might be better to wait anyway. Maybe for their first salt and light?”

 

Talia nodded and sipped the muja juice that was put before her. 

 

…

 

Before Talia left to continue on her journey Shara collected her letter and holos to be delivered to Suzelle and placed them thankfully into Talia’s hands. Shara also took the girl to the little gift shop by the harbor. It was where sailors sometimes bought little trinkets to bring home to their sweethearts from their travels. Most of the items sold there were junk but Shara found two stuffed norcogs and made sure that each one had a pink ribbon tied around its neck. 

 

Shara pulled the girl into a hug. “You give Suzelle my love and tell her I will come if it is at all within my power to do so.”

 

“I will.” Talia waved from the deck of her ship and called back. “Thank you!” 

 

…

 

It was a little disappointing but understandable when Hugo’s daughter descended the gangplank and ran first to her stepmother rather than himself. Talia hugged Suzelle and then handed her a flimzy package and two stuffed norcogs, before she gave him a rather guilty look. 

 

“I stopped off at Blackhold on my way here to fetch Lady Blackwell’s letters for Suzelle.”

 

“That was very thoughtful.” His wife also shot Hugo a look. “Wasn’t it, Dear?” 

 

He supposed he should have been angry at the unscheduled detour but really he was only glad that their little family was all together again. “Very thoughtful, Girly.” He opened his arms for a hug and she finally went to him with a relieved smile. 

 

Suzelle glanced through the items in the package and laughed. “If I’d known we had a free delivery service, I would have waited till you got back and sent you back with my letter for Shara.”

 

“Oh!” Talia bounced on the balls of her feet. She couldn’t wait for her stepmother to read the news for herself. “Speaking of delivery. You’ll never guess! Shara is pregnant again too!”

 

Hugo fought valiantly not to roll his eyes. Suzelle still threw him a warning glance to which he shrugged innocently.

 

“Salt gods, bless them.” Suzelle rubbed her own belly but then she frowned. “But now I’ve already sent her invitation. What if she’s not able to travel?” 

 

Again Hugo bit back what he really wanted to say and instead squeezed her shoulder. “If she’s able, she’s welcome. And the whe- the captain.” 

 

…

 

“Well, I know you said his daughter passed on the invite.” Jamos sat at his desk shaking his head. “But I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it in black and white.” 

 

Shara stood back watching his reaction carefully. She folded her hands over her baby bump that was beginning to show in earnest now. In another week they’d be able to find out if they were going to have another boy or finally even out the gender balance in the Hold. “It could be a brand new start for the friendship of our families. Niamh has said that the baby and I are doing just fine. She said that she’s even going on a voyage of her own to see family after my sonogram appointment. And I’ve still got ages till my due date. The boys would love a trip on the Polaris and…”

 

Jamos laughed and waved off her tirade. “Aye. Okay. I want you to be able to see your friend. I know this invitation has been a long time in coming.”

 

She squealed, ran around the desk and threw herself into his arms. Jamos made the most of having her in his lap and kissed her. 

 

“I still want you to see Niamh again first. After the sonogram appointment we’ll send them our acceptance.  _ If _ Niamh says it’s okay for you to take such a long journey.” 

 

Shara kissed his face again and again. “Oh I know she will! Thank you!” 

 

…

 

There was a post ship at the dock the afternoon after Shara’s appointment but she had to race with her hastily scribbled note to catch it before they raised the anchor and set out. 

 

“Dear Suzelle,” She had scrawled. “Another boy! Can you believe it? And the midwife says we’re perfectly healthy for a voyage. Jamos and the boys are just as excited to meet you as I am. We eagerly await your reply so we can begin to make arrangements. See you very soon, my friend. - Shara.”

 

…

 

“Maybe I should have commed instead of sending the reply by post.” Two weeks later, Shara paced back and forth, distracted from the planting she and Lana were attending to in the greenhouse. 

 

Lana sighed. “You still could, you know. We have the comm ID for the Keep. Maybe the post ship got held up.”

 

“Do you think I should? I didn’t want Hugo to think I was too eager.”

 

“You are eager.” Lana laughed. “And if they never got your acceptance than they wouldn’t know to contact you to make arrangements.”

 

“You’re right.” Shara nodded. “If there’s nothing on the post ship today, I’ll give them a comm.” 

 

There was something on the post ship, but not what they were expecting. It was a simple announcement, addressed to all of the northern clans. Hugo Bralykburn was the proud father of two new daughters Kora and Kayla. Though they had arrived early, both were thriving. Sadly their mother, Hugo’s second wife Suzelle Flint-Bralykburn, had not survived the ordeal of labor. She went to the salt gods shortly after her second daughter made her way into the world. 

 

…

 

In the days that followed, Shara cycled through shock and sadness, anger and questions. Then she dried her tears and settled back into determination. She threw herself back into packing for a sea voyage and Jamos found her dragging a loaded sea chest towards the door one afternoon after receiving a worried comm from Lana.

 

“What are you doing, Love?” He pulled her away from the luggage and coaxed her into a chair.

 

“He must be devastated. We didn't do anything for him after he lost Yanara and his son. We cannot just sit here and let him go through this alone. Again!” She had thought she had to be done with crying by now but the stubborn salty stream still washed over her cheeks. 

 

Jamos held her. “Do you think it might be possible that Hugo doesn't want us there?” He tried to say the words gently and laid his hand on her belly. “With you still…”

 

She pushed his hand away and stood. “She was my friend. Talia and those poor baby girls… I grew up without a mother. I know what they’re going through. I can’t sit here and do nothing!” 

 

“Shar, this can’t be good for you, for our baby. Please just…” 

 

“Niamh cleared me for travel. Jay, I need to do this,” she begged but some of the fire had gone out of her. She let him gather her again into his arms. 

 

“When Niamh gets back from her trip,” he hushed her. “We’ll have her check you out and if she says it’s alright, we’ll go together.”

 

Shara nodded against his chest and for the first time realized that he was crying too.

 

He shrugged when she looked up at him trying to make light of it but when he spoke his voice broke. “I don’t want to lose you. I - I don’t want to raise our boys alone.” 

 

“Oh no.” She gave him a sad smile. “You’re stuck with me, Captain. I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

…

 

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go on that voyage.” Niamh told them as she finished her exam and then asked. “You’re sure you’ve been feeling fine, no contractions or backpain?”

 

“No, I’ve felt fine.” She was being completely honest not just trying to get off with a good report. “I guess I’ve had a few of those painless contractions that I had with the other boys but as you well know both of them had to be induced to get them moving.” 

 

“Why? Is something wrong?” Jamos asked. 

 

“Not wrong exactly, no. Shara and the baby are perfectly healthy. Those contractions must have been doing something though. You’re five centimeters dilated and his head is down. I’m contemplating if I want to send you home for the night to get some rest in your own bed before I send you over to the birthing center tomorrow or if I should just have you go straight there from here.” 

 

“What?”

 

“But my due date’s not for another month.”

 

“It’s too early. He’ll be too small.” 

 

“Can you stop labor? Can I just stay off my feet till he’s ready?”

 

All the fears they had felt at the news of Suzelle’s early labor came flooding back. 

 

“We haven’t even thought of a name for him yet.” 

 

Niamh laughed. She didn’t even seem upset at the prospect. “Well you should probably give that some thought tonight. Go home. Spend some time with the boys. Just don’t do anything crazy like sail off on a second honeymoon. Thirty-six weeks really isn’t all that early. It’s earlier than we’d like. It would be nice if his lungs had a little more time to develop but we will have everything on hand to make sure that he has what he needs if he needs a little help to get started breathing real air.” 

 

Jamos inquired worriedly, “Worst case, he might have to spend some time in special care to catch up?”

 

“I can’t foresee any other problems.” The midwife shook her head. “If you do start having contractions tonight, you’ll want to go ahead and come over to the birthing center. You went pretty fast with the first two.” 

 

…

 

The triage nurse in the middle of the night didn’t agree. “She said you were at five centimeters and his head was down?”

 

“That’s what Niamh said at my appointment.” Shara glanced, unsure at her husband. 

 

Jamos corroborated. “That was several hours ago and she’s had a few contractions since then.”

 

“I’m only measuring three and a half, maybe four centimeters.” The nurse sighed. “And I don’t feel his head at all.”

 

Shara rubbed at the hard lump of anonymous baby part that was poking up into her ribs. She had been hoping that it was his behind meaning that he was in the correct position but… “You don’t think he might have rolled over so his head isn’t down anymore?”

 

“I know it’s hard to believe that he’s still got room in there but it is possible.” 

 

“Well, should we just go back home then?” Jamos asked. 

 

“No, Niamh wanted to see you in the morning.” The nurse tried to placate them but she seemed baffled. “We’ll keep you on the monitors tonight. Try to get some sleep.”

 

“Easy for her to say.” Jamos’s smile was tired and worried. 

 

He wouldn’t leave her, choosing to stay in the hard triage chair by Shara’s side rather than leave her in the care of the nurses and get some sleep or go home to check on Kason and Emoth. She couldn’t blame him after the terrible news about Suzelle. She’d been trying not to bring that up and so, she was sure, had he. Still it was on both of their minds. 

 

Shara couldn’t sleep but she was glad that her husband was getting some rest with his head pillowed on his folded arms on the edge of her bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and wondered that he didn’t have more early grays at his temples than he already had with all they had been through. She prayed for him and for herself and the baby, and for Kason and Emoth. She prayed for Marlon and Lana and her niece and nephews. She prayed for Hugo and his girls, Talia, Kayla and Kora…

 

“Kora?” Shara whispered to herself. Jamos stirred but he didn’t wake. Her mother’s maiden name was… “Cornel.” 

 

They baby within her moved reassuringly. 

 

“Is that your name, sweetheart? Are you Cornel?”

 

Again he moved, she could only hope back into the correct position, and she smiled. 

 

…

 

Niamh soberly explained her findings after her exam and the sonogram that proved that the baby had indeed moved into a breech position. 

 

“We’ve got time though, aye?” Jamos asked hopefully. “There’s still a month till the due date. He might turn back around on his own before then.”

 

The midwife shook her head. “Shara  _ was _ up to five centimeters dilation when I checked her yesterday. I don’t want her walking around like that. It is possible,” she said gently, “that, given the baby’s position, the umbilical cord could be born first. It’s what we call a prolapse. If that were to happen and then the baby dropped into position…” 

 

Shara gasped having already realized the ramifications. “He would suffocate!” Jamos squeezed her hand.

 

“We’re not going to let that happen.” Niamh continued to explain. “We have some options. We could schedule a C-section. That way the conditions will be more controlled.”

 

Shara shook her head. She wouldn’t consider that unless it was absolutely necessary. Of course there was always a risk with surgery but what she really hated was the idea of her own recovery time that she’d miss out on holding her son right after he was born and bonding with him. 

 

Jamos spoke up for them both. “There’s an option other than major surgery?” 

Niamh nodded once. “I could attempt to turn him manually, get him into position, and then break your water and induce labor. External version can be a painful procedure. I would suggest that you have the epidural first before I make the attempt. Even then I would like to have the operating room ready just in case.” 

 

“I had epidurals and inductions with the other boys so that shouldn’t be a problem.” Shara breathed a relieved sigh. She wasn’t completely out of the woods but she vastly prefered this option. 

 

“Pray about it before you make a decision. I’ll be praying also for the salt gods’ wisdom.” Niamh left them to think it over. 

 

…

 

When the time came, the operating room had been prepared and pediatric special care nurses were attending to whisk the preemie off to his own intervention should it be needed. But none of it was. Jamos and Shara’s third son arrived pink and screaming into the world a bit smaller than his brothers had been, but perfectly healthy and fully developed. 

 

The nurses congratulated the couple as they returned to their regular duties. Jamos and Shara thanked them and Niamh for everything, but distractedly, because they were so enamoured with their new little boy. 

 

…

 

“Cornel Blackwell?” Jamos’s brother jokingly complained when he and Lana came to visit later, bringing up all of the brothers and cousins to meet the new addition. “What’s Grandmother Flint going to say?”

 

“Cornel  _ Marlon _ Blackwell.” Jamos grinned. “Unless you’d like us to change it.”

 

“No.” Marlon laughed. “My nephew is just perfect.” 

 

…

 

“ _ Hello? _ ” The voice that finally answered Shara’s comm was quiet and nervous and Talia’s image looked back over her shoulder as if she was afraid of being discovered doing the answering. 

 

Shara modified her own volume but her words came out in a rush. “Talia, are you alright? How are the babies? Your Papa? We never heard anything after… Oh, Talia I’m so sorry.”

 

“ _ He doesn’t want me to speak to you, but I couldn’t just… _ ” Talia smiled guiltily. “ _ The girls are beautiful. Kora is fair like Su- like Suzelle but she already has a temper like Papa. Kayla has a head full of dark curls. She was smaller to start with but she’s so calm and sweet. You had your baby too. Another boy? _ ”

 

“Aye.” Shara swallowed at the mention of her friend and her chin wobbled slightly. “We call him Cornel. He’s small and sweet like your Kayla. He’s napping just now.” 

 

“ _ Suzelle would have loved to see him. She was just talking about how she couldn’t wait for your visit before _ …” She looked back out of the holofield when she heard a noise and then Shara heard another voice. 

 

“ _ Who’re you talkin’ to? _ ” 

 

“ _ Nobody, Papa _ .” Talia’s image turned away as if she were trying to block the projection on her end from someone else’s view. 

 

Then she was pushed aside and Hugo Bralykburn’s image filled Shara’s view with a tiny bundle in his arms. Dark curls peaked out from the edge of the blanket so it must have been little Kayla he was holding. Only then did Shara also hear another infant crying from another room of the Keep. 

 

“ _ The witch! I should have known! _ ”

 

“ _ Papa she only wanted to see about the twins and say she was sorry about Suzelle _ .” Talia attempted to push back in. 

 

“Lord Bralykburn, I’ve wanted so badly to come… if there’s anything at all I can do to help.”

 

“ _ We don’t need your help! _ ” He cut her off. “ _ Too little too late is always the way with you Blackwells, isn’t it. _ ” He turned to his eldest daughter and with remarkable gentleness placed her little sister in her arms. “ _ Go and see to Kora _ .” 

 

“ _ Aye, Papa _ .” 

 

He watched them go before he seemed to swell, ready to give vent to his full anger. “ _ We don’t need you or your whelp husband anywhere near Bralyk Keep! Don’t need you and don’t want you! Might have made allowances while Suzelle was alive. She seemed to take to you, though I’m kriffed why! _ ” 

 

Shara knew his outburst stemmed from the hurt and loss he was feeling but that didn’t make it easier to take. 

 

“ _ I knew you were a kriffing witch when you sailed away from that storm without a scratch while my Yanara and Dominic were taken by the sea and now you pop out a third whelp for that _ …” 

 

“How dare you speak  that way  to my wife!” Jamos’s voice bellowed as he rushed into the comm room behind her. 

 

Just behind him, drawn by the noise, Lana came, gathered Shara into a comforting hug, and drew her away from the argument that was only escalating in volume and intensity. 

 

“I was only trying to… I only wanted…” Shara wept into her friend’s shoulder. 

 

Lana hushed her. “Shhh… Some people just can’t accept help. Don’t you waste any more time on him.”

 

“But Suzelle’s babies…” Shara sobbed. “And Talia. Those poor girls growing up without a mother. Hugo… just now he sounded so much like my father after… He wouldn’t accept any help either.” 

 

“Suzelle was able to speak into Talia’s life these past few years.” Lana rubbed her back. They walked together further away from the comm room but it was impossible to escape completely all the horrible, unretractable things that were being said. 

 

Marlon passed them going the other way to intercede. And eventually the voices died down.

 

Lana continued. “Tallia knows that you’re there for her if she needs someone to turn to and Adria will be watching out for her as well. The little girls will have their big sister.” 

 

“She did seem to be very good with the baby.” Shara nodded and accepted a handkerchief to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. 

 

“There’s something else.” Lana held out an envelope. “This just came. It must have gotten mixed up in the post.” 

 

Shara whimpered again when she saw the handwriting and the name. No matter what message it held, she knew she would always treasure Suzelle’s final letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life and death. Joy and sadness. Shara certainly has her hands full with three boys under the age of five. But she will always keep a watch on the Bralykburn girls from a distance and maybe the day will come when Hugo will finally allow her to be a part of their lives. Though you might have to wait till the sequel for that…


	72. As High As Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her name was Steela Gerrera. She came to them from Iziz, a beast rider born and bred, and the elected leader of the Onderon rebels. No man or woman was smarter, or stronger, or kinder. She was the blood of the drexl. And now her watch has ended. - LS

The Beast Riders’ procession isn’t as large as Dalla would have expected, but that’s probably for the best. Steela’s state funeral was a public event, but this is only for the people who knew and cared for her. 

 

Saw walks behind the casket all alone. Dalla would have offered to walk with him, but she and Lux had looked up the beast rider’s funeral traditions on the HoloNet back at Bonteri Estate. Only the next of kin followed directly behind the casket, and as Dalla isn’t even a member of the community her doing so would be out of the question. 

 

Lux may have been able to squeeze by, but he’s ahead as one of four pallbearers carrying Steela’s casket. Tandin carries the corner next to his, followed by Jamos and Hugo Bralykburn. 

 

For most in the procession Hugo’s presence is an enigma. He only knew Steela for a standard day, what place does he have carrying her casket? But everyone who saw him after the roast has to know. It's some southern whore who can get Hugo Bralykburn to kneel for her, and he’s grown at least a grudging respect for her. Jamos, who never even spoke to Steela outside pleasantries, carries the coffin out of gratitude for her helping his family and not to be outdone by a Bralykburn. Dalla hopes that from her place in the salt gods’ halls, Steela doesn’t mind. 

 

The procession’s sedate, at a pace Marlon can maintain on his one crutch. Dalla knows he wanted to help carry the casket, but it's impossible with his injury. From just behind them Shara leads her brood, singing the beast riders’ funeral song and teaching it to her children. A few of the little cousins sing along, eager to learn about their heritage they’ve mostly swept under the rug. Dalla’s silent as a stone. She and Lux found the funeral song while they were researching the beast rider’s traditions, but now that they’re actually in the procession the words have flown out of their heads. Most of the other northerners are silent as well so they don’t stick out. Still, Dalla hates that she can’t do this last thing for her friend. 

 

They approach the cemetery with the houses of the dead and the song dies out once they reach the Gerrera tomb. It’s a smaller tomb than many of the others but it’s been lovingly maintained. Steela never liked fancy things anyway... 

 

Just as the pallbearers set the casket inside the tomb and step back for Saw to approach there’s a cry from behind. Dalla turns around to see Shara quickly guiding Cornel away before his meltdown can escalate. Poor Cornel, he probably understands more of this situation than he can express.  

 

Marlon gathers up the rest of the brood so Shara doesn’t have that to worry about and quickly shushes any remaining strains of the funeral song. Little Lana tries to bolt for her daddy and the excitement at the head of the procession but Thias scoops her up before she can get far. 

 

Lux retreats from the tomb and comes to stand next to Dalla. They nod to each other and then redirect their attention to the front. 

 

Saw takes slow, deliberate steps toward the tomb and stands in front of the door, his hand on the panel to close it. He takes a deep breath to collect himself. Then another. And another, each one growing less controlled and more ragged. 

 

“Someone needs to get him,” Dalla whispers to Lux. 

 

Lux looks downright pained watching Saw. “We can’t. Only the next of kin can approach the tomb; it would be sacrilege for us to go up.” 

 

Saw gives a shuddering sob and finally manages to press the door control and seal the tomb. Once the door slides shut his breakdown starts to escalate. Dalla looks behind her to the beast riders.  _ Come on, somebody go get him since Lux and I can't!  _

 

Nobody budges and Dalla’s about to kriff etiquette and go get Saw herself when there’s a muffled commotion and the procession splits down the middle. 

 

Bremon Kira walks down the newly-formed aisle without looking at anyone and makes his way to Saw. They stand in silence a moment longer, and then Bremon wraps his arm around Saw and leads him away from the tomb. 

 

Once the two men reach the procession Lux and Dalla intercept them and take Saw’s hands. Not about to commit a social taboo after they were just saved from another, the two of them squeeze his hands in place of spoken condolences. 

 

Saw doesn’t squeeze back, and the silent walk winds on toward the city while the others close ranks around him: Brem from behind, Marlon and Jamos on either side, and Tandin in front of them. 

 

The HoloNet calls this part the last lonely walk. Hopefully Saw realizes that nothing after this has to be. 

 

...

 

Saw goes to bed as soon as they get back from the funeral. Nobody can really blame him, though Lux does run a quick check on the contents of his liquor cabinet and then locks them up tight. 

 

Ahsoka and her Jedi masters are waiting for them in the parlor. Ahsoka chose to show them back to Bonteri Estate rather than attend the Beast Riders’ procession, and Dalla and Lux have the sneaking suspicion she still feels guilty over what happened on the cliff. He promises to talk to her once they’re in private, and Dalla’s willing to let him take that task. 

 

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Obi-Wan Kenobi says, bringing her back to the present. “I’m sure the second half was as well.” 

 

“It was,” Marlon says, leaving out everything else that happened. “I’m sure she would appreciate your taking time away from the war to attend, Generals.”

 

“We’re already here to pick up Ahsoka. Wouldn’t have missed it for the Galaxy,” Skywaker says. “But we can't stay for long. The Council has no shortage of missions.”

 

Ahsoka sighs. “Is it too much to hope for a break?”

 

“Cheer up, Snips. You’ll have plenty of time to hang out with Barriss...in the Halls of Healing.”

 

Ahsoka grimaces. “I was afraid you were gonna say that.”

 

“You need it,” Dendup advises. “Just like I told Lord Marlon, you need to let the medical staff do their jobs. Dalla, don't let your father ignore them.”

 

Dalla raises her comlink. “I had the medcenter send the doctor’s orders to me, your Highness.”

 

“You’re merciless,” Marlon grumbles. 

 

“Uncle Jamos will help. Won't you, Uncle Jamos? Or will you be too busy preparing for Number Six?”

 

Jamos and Shara roll their eyes. “We’ve decided the Captain’s Lady has a full crew,” he says. 

 

“Uh huh, sure,” Thias scoffs. 

 

Shara shoots him a look. “Which means we will be making sure you stay in line, Marlon.” 

 

“As will I,” Tandin says, and then immediately backpedals. “I will, if you’ll have me. It’s up to you. I only…” He takes a deep breath, rises from his seat, then stands before Marlon and starts over. “What I mean to say, my lord, is that I’ve decided what I want.” 

 

Marlon nods. “Go on.” 

 

“My lord, I wish to pledge myself to House Blackwell and live out my days in the north in retirement.” He looks down. “There’s nothing left for me here. The militia is in ruins. My entire immediate family died during the Dalgos Flu when I was a teenager; Shara is all I have left. I want to spend the rest of my life after a fresh start, where no one knows me as a traitor who failed one king and turned on another, where I can be with my family. Maybe I won’t ever belong in the north --.” 

 

Shara nods sympathetically. “I’ve lived there for seventeen years, and sometimes I still don’t feel like I belong.” 

 

“You have five northern children!” Jamos exclaims. “Of course you belong.” 

 

“-- All I ask is that you let me try.” Tandin continues. “I may not be cut out to be a sailor, but at least I’ll be with the people I love.” 

 

He swallows and then drops to a knee. “My lord, my sword is yours. My life is yours. I pledge myself to House Blackwell and promise to --.” 

 

“General, get up,” Marlon orders and grabs his crutch to do the same. Dalla follows suit and offers her hand for Tandin, who’s profoundly confused. 

 

“My lord, did I do something wrong?” 

 

“You did,” Marlon snaps and then his serious mask gives way to a friendly smile. “Northmen don’t kneel. You’ll have to remember that.”

 

He extends his hand. “General Grigori Tandin, I accept your pledge and offer you all the protection and hospitality of our house. Welcome to the north.” 

 

Tandin shakes. “Thank you, my lord.”

 

“And knock off with that ‘my lord’ business,” Marlon replies with mock seriousness. “You’re kin, and you saved my daughter. Call me Marlon.”

 

“Shouldn't be too hard. You've already got it down for me.” Dalla jests. 

 

Tandin rolls his eyes. “Don't make me regret this decision, young lady.”

 

“I'm the least of your worries.”

 

“She’s near the top of my list of worries,” Tandin stage whispers. 

 

Marlon nods. “You are a very smart man.”

 

“I resent that,” Dalla scoffs. “But really Tandin, you won’t have anything to worry about. If anyone tries to bother you, I’ll mess them up worse than this.” With that she grins, showing off every one of her crooked teeth. 

 

“And that is how you make it to the top of his list of worries,” Marlon mutters. “Not to mention mine.” 

 

“Glad I’m not the only one,” Skywalker says and shoots a look to Ahsoka, who shrugs and mutters “guilty.” 

 

Dendup smiles. “Congratulations, General. You deserve this, though I’ll certainly miss you here in Iziz.”

 

“It wasn’t an easy decision, sire. But I do believe it’s the right one for me.” Tandin looks happier than Dalla’s ever seen him. 

 

“May I ask what got you thinking about it?” Shara asks. 

 

Tandin smiles to himself and pulls something out of his pocket. It’s a flimsi sticker in the shape of a flower, worn from being in his pocket but still holding its shape. 

 

“I met some incredible people on my travels to the north,” he says. “They’re not the type one forgets easily.” 

 

…

 

_ General Tandin sat in the least prominent table at Blackhold’s pub and inn, staring at his food. Normally he didn’t drink, but the pubkeep had informed him that it was ale or an empty glass, and he’d gone with the ale. Weak as it was, the alcohol was also a welcome distraction from the reason why he was north in the first place. He didn’t bat an eye when King Rash ordered him to retrieve his bride, but the second he discovered the bride in question was a seventeen-year-old girl, and his kin to boot there was a bitter taste in Tandin’s mouth he couldn’t get rid of.  _

 

_ To his horror he’d even gone through the kidnapping in his head when he arrived on the docks. Though there was no doubt in his mind she was a fighter Dalla Blackwell was slight, and it would have been easy to shoot her with a stun pulse and scoop her up. Even though he had no intent of actually doing it, the thought of hurting his family made him sick to his stomach -- almost too sick to eat the fish the pubkeep -- Maris, her name was -- put in front of him.  _

 

_ Almost, but not quite. He hadn’t had home cooked food in years, and it was too good to pass up. Instead, his disgust at himself only managed to dampen his enthusiasm for food a little and he picked at his plate. Maybe it would help kill the taste.  _

 

How am I going to manage this? _ He lamented _ . I can’t stay here forever, and Rash won’t let this affair go when I return. I can’t help Dalla once I’m gone, or Shara or any of the others. And how am I going to convince him I failed to kidnap a girl I could probably pick up with one arm tied behind my back, even with this black eye?

 

_ Tandin was snapped out of his pity party by a joyous shout of “Stee-cahs!”   _

 

_ A toddler zoomed between the pub’s tables, wispy golden hair floating behind her. In one hand she clutched an assortment of seashells, smooth pebbles, and funny-shaped pieces of driftwood, in the other a sheet of flimsi stickers printed with images of flowers. The latter was her main concern. _ “Stee-cahs!” 

 

_ Tandin couldn’t help but smile at her joy. It had been a long time since something simple as stickers could make him happy. The other men in the room seemed to be smiling too, especially the one who’d given the little girl her stickers.  _

 

_ The child practically teleported over to Tandin’s table and deposited her loot across from his plate to free up both hands for her stickers. After a little maneuvering and a few trials with her chubby fingers, she succeeded in peeling a flower from the flimsi backing and stuck it to the table. Immediately afterward she peeled another, took a step back, and turned her gaze to Tandin.  _

 

_ Without a word, she stuck her sticker to his kneecap and went back to peeling.  _

 

_ “Thank you,” Tandin said, staring at the flower adhered to his knee.  _

 

_ “You welcome,” the little girl replied without looking up. She peeled off another flower and aimed it for his thigh.  _

 

_ “Thank you again.” He couldn’t help but smile. What had he done to deserve not one, but two of the girl’s precious stickers? “You like flowers, don’t you?”  _

 

_ “Nobody give ‘em to me. ‘Stead I get flowah stee-cahs,” she explained and stuck another sticker on his leg.  _

 

_ “Give them to you?” Tandin raised an eyebrow.  _

 

_ One of the other men in the pub spoke up: “The salt gods have more mercy on us if we bring Nessa here goodies from the other ports.”  _

 

_ “Is that was these are?” he asked, gesturing to the tiny pile on the table.  _

 

_ Nessa nodded. “I lucky!” she announced and started working on a fourth flower.  _

 

_ “I bet the southerner could getcha real flowers, Nessa,” the sailor said. _

 

_ The younger man who’d given the stickers shot him a look. “You knockin’ my stickers?”  _

 

_ But Nessa must really have been lucky, because she didn’t seem to notice the argument. She was completely absorbed in her stickers, sticking them on the table and the chairs and Tandin. _

 

_ Just then a shout of surprise came from the general direction of the kitchen, and Maris bustled in. “Nessa, what’re you doin’?” As she got closer she saw and scooped the little girl into her arms. “We do not put stickers on tables!” She asserted, looking Nessa in the eye. _

 

_ “Aye, Momma,” Nessa said and gave them a blinding smile.  _

 

_ Maris surveyed the damage to the table as if Tandin was so much a potted plant. “It's gonna take hours to scrape them off. An’ -- salt gods! I'm sorry, sir. She’s just three, an’ her sitter ran off to gods know where.”  _

 

_ “No harm done. She’s yours?” Tandin asked.  _

 

_ “Aye.” Maris wrangled her squirming child. “Don’t let ‘er fool you; she can be a little devil.”  _

 

_ “She ain’t no devil. She’s lucky!” The sailor yells.  _

 

_ “You go on thinkin’ that.” She sighed and experimentally scraped at a sticker with her fingernail. “Nessa, no more stickers. You hear?”  _

 

_ “Aye, Momma.” Nessa grinned at Tandin again  _

 

_ “Alright, to bed with you. It’s late!”  _

 

_ Tandin hurriedly scooped Nessa’s gifts off the table. “Don’t forget these.”  _

 

_ Maris held out her hand and Tandin carefully placed them in her outstretched palm. Her fingers closed around the shells and pebbles, trapping his hand in her own. She held on a second longer than she should.  _

 

_ “Would you like any help?” he asked, not knowing what else to say.  _

 

_ The pubkeep looked into his eyes for a moment, then laughed and shook her head. “She ain’t so much a devil I need help puttin’ her to sleep. Nessa, say good night.” _

 

_ “Ni’night!” Nessa chorused and waved at Tandin and the sailors over her mother’s shoulder. Tandin waved back and watched the two of them go before going back to his meal. Nessa’s stickers were still adhered to the table.  _

 

_ He smiled when he looked at them and the ones stuck to his leg. Maybe he was doing something right after all.  _

 

…

 

“I don’t have much in the way of packing,” Tandin says. “The guardhouse was all but destroyed in the siege. However, there is something. Sire, may I borrow some plants from the royal gardens?” 

 

“Of course,” Dendup nods. “Take anything you like. It’s the least I can do.” 

 

“Thank you, sire. I have a good luck charm to pay my dues to.”

 

…

 

Once the river is cleared of wreckage, what remains of the northern navy sails home without ceremony. Victorious or not, it’s the high season. They have fish to catch. 

 

The crews rearrange to fill the voids left by sunken ships and fallen sailors. Dalla retakes her old position as first mate of the _ Queen Lana  _ and Thias falls into place with the rest of the sailors. Well, he did so after he helped Tandin load his belongings into a cabin. The now-former general doesn’t have much at all, just a bag with his personal belongings and two wrapped packages. 

 

The Harkons’ two main ships are silent as stones. Glover’s takes on his elder daughter’s body, wrapped in a shroud and ready to go back to the salt gods when they reach the north. Ephraim throws two former royal agents into his brig, making sure they see every scowling face in his crew before the door locks behind them. 

 

The crew of the Polaris was probably the loudest when they left Iziz. Shara hadn’t even started walking up the gangplank when they broke into a rousing, no-holds-barred rendition of “The Captain’s Lady.” Half the fleet heard Shara’s response of “All of you, lyrics!” 

 

The crew respected that and swapped to the clean version, that is until Jamos pulled Kason aside and said something to him that had the boy beaming in seconds. Then the captain plopped his hat onto his son’s head and announced: “Meet your first mate for the journey home, boys!” And the crew went wild. 

 

Dalla would have celebrated right along with them if she hadn’t been on the docks below saying goodbye to Saw and Lux. 

 

“I still can’t believe you got General Tandin to go along with you,” Lux said. 

 

“I don’t think I had a whole lot to do with that,” she admitted. “He was bound and determined, and he sort of had to be. Dendup didn’t seem too happy about it.” 

 

“He’ll live.” Saw patted her on the back. “Can’t say I’m shoving you out the door either, but I’ll live too.” 

 

She hugged him. “You can always come with us.” 

 

Saw just shook his head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not going anywhere; I’m not …”  _ I’m not leaving her. _

 

Dalla didn’t make him finish his sentence. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” 

 

“Lower the gangplank!” 

 

Her father’s voice and the cool northern air snap Dalla back to the present. She watches as the  _ Queen Lana  _ lowers her gangplank to Blackhold’s dock and the crew streams off to meet their loved ones and the scores of others celebrating alongside them. 

 

Marlon comes up to her and squeezes her shoulder. “Good to be home?” 

 

“Definitely.” The Blackwell banners lining the docks have never been a more welcome sight. 

 

“I’m glad we have you back here in one piece.”

 

“The salt gods were looking out for me,” she grins. “And so was my father.” 

 

“Don’t make me cry, Dalla.” He pats her shoulder and walks toward the gangplank when they both hear a shout from the dock. 

 

_ Speaking of the man who got me back in one piece.  _ Dalla rushes over to the rail and picks Tandin out from the crowd at the docks. She doesn’t see him at first; he’s surrounded by sailors and he’s lifted up little Nessa, the pubkeep’s daughter, from the crowded dock. Nessa’s tearing at the paper of one of Tandin’s packages.

 

“Nessa, you’re makin’ out like a bandit!” one of the sailors cheers. 

 

Nessa completely ignores him when she sees what’s in the package.  _ “Flowahs!”  _

 

“Do you like them?” 

 

Nessa pulls one of the stems from the package, sniffs it, and then throws her arms around Tandin’s neck and kisses the top of his head. “Thank you!” 

 

Tandin turns bright red. “You’re welcome. Where's your Momma, Nessa?”

 

The sailors whistle. “Here she comes…”

 

Maris shoves through the crowd to get to her daughter. “Nessa! Nessa, what do I say about runnin’ on these here docks?”

 

Nessa holds up her package. “Momma! Momma, flowahs!”

 

“Flowers? Where’d you get --.” Nessa turns enough for Maris to get a good look at who’s holding her daughter and her entire demeanor changes. “General. You’re back?” 

 

“By the skin of my teeth, a few times.” Tandin sets Nessa down. “I was simply paying my dues to the north’s good luck charm. Gods know she helped me.” 

 

“She tell you thank you?” 

 

“Aye, she did.” He unconsciously rubs the back of his neck. “Ma’am, I’ve come to the north to stay. I have credits. May I stay at your pub again until I can find somewhere more permanent? That is if you’re not booked up, I wouldn’t want to --”

 

“We ain’t booked up,” Maris interrupts. “An’ don’t you worry about credits. A hero like you can stay as long as you need. But I ain’t no ma’am. You remember that.” 

 

“Thank you ma’-- uh, Maris.” Tandin flounders and then pulls out a second package from behind his back. “This -- this is for you.” 

 

Maris raises her eyebrows and takes the package. “For -- for me?” 

 

“I never saw anyone get you something nice. I thought it was time to change that,” Tandin says nervously. “If you don’t like them I won’t be offended. It was a long shot, I …” 

 

“Are these fresh meilooruns?” Maris cries and lifts one out of the package. “Salt gods! You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” 

 

“It was my pleasure,” Tandin hurries to say. “After all your kind hospitality and the food you made for my journey, it was the least I could do. I’d never had nyorks like that in my life.”

 

Maris playfully pokes his chest and then snags Nessa before she can run off. “You get over to the pub and I’ll fry you up a whole mess of them.” 

 

Dalla comes down the gangplank grinning wickedly. “I think I found the real reason you wanted to come up north, Tandin.” 

 

He wags a finger at her. “I should have kidnapped you when I had the chance.” 

 

“But you didn’t!” 

 

“And good thing you didn’t,” Maris says. “I thought it was very brave, helpin’ like you did.” 

 

The look on Tandin’s face makes Dalla think he’d follow the pubkeep to the edge of the world if she asked him. Dalla grins at him while the sailors start placing loud bets on the wedding date. 

 

Even if nothing happens between Maris and Tandin, she’s still glad he came to the north. Tandin should fit right in with the other men. Here, they say a man without honor is like a ship with no hull -- no man at all. 

 

Dalla resists the urge to wring her hands. She did everything she could to hold onto her own, but did it work? She wouldn’t be the first to slip while still thinking she was the hero of her own story. Just look at what happened to Rash. Dalla can’t stomach the thought of going down the same path he did. 

 

But no. Her father said he was proud of what she’d done. And Dalla likes to think that wherever she is, her mother’s proud of her too. 

 

At any rate, there’s plenty of time to think about that later. Right now it’s the high season, and they need to get ready if they’re going to get any good catches. 

 

Dalla squares her shoulders and walks toward Blackhold, where the Blackwell banners at the top of the towers fly as high as honor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victory for the northerners, though not without its cost. Steela’s loss will affect our characters’ lives forever, much as Suzelle’s rocked the world of Gen 1. But in the wake of such tragedy, there have been at least two new beginnings. Let’s hear it for first mate Kason and Tandin the northerner!


	73. Beacon for the Fleet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months ago when LS and I were just in the planning stages of this story, my husband went to an album release party for a friend’s band. My husband had co-written one of the songs on the album. He got the CD and it was the first time he had heard the finished track. I didn’t know anything about the song and he didn’t know anything about the story I was writing.
> 
>  
> 
> The title for track 4 on the CD case jumped out at me right away and I had to smile when he told me that track 4 was the song he had co-written. I teared up when I heard the lyrics. It’s Shara’s song. All through this journey of writing her story and mirroring it to her niece, Dalla’s story, this song has been like a compass point. I’m so happy to finally share it with you now. ~ DK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been through the roughest waters
> 
> Thrown miles off course, by my want to wander
> 
> Been thought too far gone
> 
> Mist in my eyes salt on my tongue
> 
>  
> 
> Left the rest. Lost my bearings.
> 
> Stained and cracked and worn past caring
> 
> Should be a wreck on the ocean floor
> 
> But your love broke through washed me up on the shore.
> 
>  
> 
> Like a west wind, northern star
> 
> Lost ship with her share of battle scars
> 
> Love’s light brought me back from the deep
> 
> Let this testimony be a beacon for the fleet

Seventeen! Shara picked up the birthday card off the floor. It had fallen out of the book she had been reading to her daughter before bed. It wasn't easy for the one and a half year old to understand that the gifts and cards hadn't been for her. Dalla must have given it to her to hold and Lana claimed it as her own. 

 

Shara smiled down at the little girl who had finally given in to sleep in her crib. Then she looked up at the painting hanging on the wall. When she was seventeen years old Shara had been desperate to have a baby so she could hang up that painting in her child’s nursery. 

 

Seventeen years ago she had run away up north with that painting thinking that she would never have any children at all. Now she had five of them and her oldest was off on a voyage with friends. 

 

She looked into Kason’s room next and as she had expected Emoth, her second oldest, was still busy on his datapad. She knocked on the wall to get his attention. “Five more minutes. Then you need to shut it off.”

 

He grunted in annoyance but dutifully said, “Aye, Momma.” 

 

“Oh and if you’re on with Cade,” she remembered before she moved on, “let him know it’s about time for lights out as well.” 

 

“I will.” 

 

“Good night, Love.” She’d cut him a little slack tonight, with Kason away. Her eldest would likely be up till all hours on the ship but Wyman had promised her there would be plenty of adult supervision on the journey. 

 

Marlon surely wouldn’t be keeping Cade to any sort of schedule tonight. She’d heard her brother-in-law yelling in his office a while ago. No doubt he was arguing with Hugo about the trade embargo with Iziz. 

 

Just then Shara heard a comm chime and she poked her head around her husband’s office doorway to see him shut the unit off. “Aren’t you going to get that?”

 

“It’s just Marl. I’ll comm him back in a bit.” He sat back in his chair and cupped the back of his head in his laced fingers. “I want to figure out this schedule first.” 

 

Shara crossed the room to stand behind him and began to rub his shoulders. “You’re worried about giving Cornel and Arkon equal time.” 

 

“Arkon is so eager.” He smiled and then the expression turned down. “But Cornel has a birthday coming up. How is he going to be eight already? You don’t think it’s too soon to make him Midshipman?” 

 

She ceased her massage and came around to look at him, sitting on the edge of his desk. “I do. You know he’ll never be comfortable with command.”

 

Jamos’s jaw tightened with frustration. 

 

“He’s good at so many other things. He loves working with his hands, building.” Shara sighed. “Maybe we could talk to the Flint masons when he gets a little older or the Harkon shipwrights. For now…” She took her husband’s hand in hers. “Have you seen his drawings? Maybe concentrate on navigation. He might enjoy copying your charts.”

 

“Aye, you’re right.” His slightly guilty smile returned and he kissed her hand. 

 

“And there’s nothing to say you can’t bring both of them on the same voyage. Those two are inseparable.”

 

Jamos grinned. “Even more than Double Trouble. Alright. That helps. Thank you, my Love. I’ll finish up here and then maybe…” He left the phrase hanging suggestively. 

 

Shara laughed, kissed her husband and then rose to continue on her nighttime rounds. “Don’t forget to comm back your brother.” 

 

“Aye, aye, M’lady.” 

 

Her next stop was the little boys’ room. Shara turned down the volume of the audio story they’d been listening to about the stuffed lothcat who was brought to life because he was loved by the little boy. She gently removed a comic book from Cornel’s hands, laid it on the shelf, and tucked his blankets around him. 

 

She gazed for a while at five-year-old Arkon who had his arms wrapped tightly around his purple mythosaur. It made her smile how much he still loved the thing. The Harkons had given it to him when he was born, a running joke since Shara had told them so long ago that she couldn’t stand the holo and would never let her children watch it. Salt gods forbid that thing should come to life!

 

Little Ephraim had had one just like it, she remembered. Little Ephraim who was all grown up and married now.

 

…

 

_ There were few people who had ever seen Talia Bralykburn in anything but her fishing leathers or officers’ uniform but no one could deny how beautiful she looked in her wedding gown. Her little seven-year-old half-sisters and her new sisters-in-law looked lovely too, but the bride outshown them all.  _

 

_ The look on Ephraim Harkon’s face as his bride walked down the boardwalk to where he stood waiting at the Harkon Hall salt formation, was priceless.  _

 

_ After the ceremony Miranda Harkon grabbed both Dalla and Thias Blackwell's hands and dragged them to the front. “They're going to toss the net!”  _

 

_ Dalla complained, “Just because we're unmarried doesn't mean we have to go up.” _

 

_ Thias didn't look upset at all that the pretty girl who had always been his sister's best friend had singled him out. His grin rivaled some of those given by his Uncle Jamos. “Aww come on, Dal. It's a tradition.” _

 

_ Miranda batted her eyelashes at him and then pouted when the net fell instead over the heads of Dalla's patch-eyed first mate and his date for the occasion.  _

 

_ Dalla laughed. “So much for that tradition. What are the odds that he'll still be with her by salt and light?” She looked around but her brother and her friend hadn't stuck around to hear her. _

 

_ “Come on, Thias.” Miranda was dragging him towards the kennels. “I'll show you the norcogs.” _

 

_ “Aye!” He said eagerly and looked as though he would follow her to Dxun and back. _

 

_ “Looks like someone’s noticed your little brother had growth spurt.” Shara sidled up to her niece and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  _

 

_ Dalla smiled but her heart wasn’t in it. “Sometimes wonder if she’d rather spend time with Thias than me.” She forced a laugh. _

 

_ “Maybe she’s figured out if she lands Thias she gets you for a sister-in-law.” It wouldn’t be the first time someone had claimed those particular motives.  _

 

_ “Maybe.” Dalla searched for an escape from the conversation. “Father is congratulating the bride and groom. I should be with him.” She excused herself.  _

 

_ Shara sighed. Her niece had so much responsibility thrust on her at such a young age. Yet she handled it with a marvelous maturity. At sixteen Dalla should be able to enjoy her time with the other young people at the gathering, not carry the weight of the title of Lady of the North.  _

 

_ Well perhaps she was better off than Shara had been at that age, selling fruit and meeting Sanjay…  _

 

_ Shara let the chaos of the wedding reception drive those thoughts away. Her children were playing with the younger Flints and Kretash cousins. Off to the side, however were two little girls who weren’t participating in the games.  _

 

_ Their father didn’t seem to be paying much attention. He was focused on his elder daughter. Shara jumped at the opportunity. _

 

_ “She’s the one Papa says we’re not supposed to talk to.” The little blond girl whispered, stepping slightly in front of her dark haired twin protectively.  _

 

_ Shara pretended she hadn’t heard and bent to speak to them. “You must be Kora and Kayla. My name is Shara. I was friends with your mother.”  _

 

_ “You knew…” Kayla pushed her way forward with a smile. “Kor, she knew Momma.”  _

 

_ “That’s right.” Shara swallowed back her emotion. “She was so happy about the two of you. There was nothing she wanted more than to be a mother.”  _

 

_ “Talia told us.” Kora was curious about this woman too, in spite of herself.  _

 

_ “I’m so glad she did. I’ve always wanted to meet you girls too. Suzelle and I… we always hoped that our children might grow up together and be friends.” Shara looked back over her shoulder to where the other children were playing. “You know I’m sure they’d welcome you into their game. You don’t have to stay over here by yourselves.”  _

 

_ Kayla and Kora smiled at each other and then at Shara. They were on the verge of taking her advice when their father arrived on the scene.  _

 

_ “Now girls you wouldn’t want to muss your pretty dresses. Why don’t you go and say good-bye to your sister before she goes away on her honeymoon?” He kept his voice level but Shara could feel the anger radiating from the man.  _

 

_ “Aye Papa.” The twins hurried to obey. _

 

_ Hugo waited until they’d crossed the room before he began, low and dangerous. “How dare you even think about addressing my daughters, Witch.” _

 

_ “I was only…”  _

 

_ “Stay away from my family!”  _

 

_ “Hugo.” Adria Harkon descended like an angel of mercy. “I just wanted to thank you for all your help in the planning of the event. I’ve had so many people tell me how beautiful everything turned out.” _

 

_ “Could have done without some of the names on the guest list,” he mumbled. “Glad my Talia is happy. That’s all that matters. Gotta get my other girls and get back to the Keep.” _

 

_ “You know you and the girls are welcome to stay as long as you like. We are family now.” Adria reminded him. _

 

_ Hugo grunted. It was about as close to a thank you as she might expect. “Got a holdfast to run and the frost will be comin’ on soon. ‘Scuse me, Lady Harkon.” He threw Shara one last glare before he marched off.  _

 

_ “That man!” Shara watched him go. “All I ever wanted to do was be there for the girls when they lost their mother. She was my friend. She would have wanted…”  _

 

_ “We’ll never know what she would have wanted,” Adria said gently. “But he is their father and they have turned out alright.”  _

 

_ “I’m glad he’s at least let you look in on them now and then, Addy.”  _

 

_ “I’ve tried to do what I can. Talia’s been a remarkable big sister. They sure are going to miss her. Almost makes me feel bad for stealing her away to marry my son.”  _

 

_ The two women were silent a while, watching the children play before Shara spoke up again. “I’m a little worried about Dalla.” _

 

_ “Dalla?” Adria turned to her. “She seems to be handling herself well. You’ve been a real blessing to her since we lost Lana.” _

 

_ “I don’t know about that. My mother died when I was three. I don’t know anything about raising a teenage girl let alone one who’s destined to be Lady of the North.” _

 

_ “Even Lana had her worries about that, if I remember correctly, but Dalla comes by it honestly.” Adria gestured toward the girl standing next to her father addressing the people of the north with equal grace and humor.  _

 

_ Shara sighed. “It’s not that so much that I’m worried about. It’s… she has her brothers and her cousins but there are very few other girls around her own age.” she noticed Adria about to interject and continued. “I know she’s grown up with Miranda. What I don’t know is if the girls are as close as they once were. She mentioned to me a while ago if it might be Thias that Miranda really wants to see instead of her.” _

 

_ “Ah.” Adria smiled and nodded. “My daughter has discovered the existence of boys. Well I suppose she’s been crazy about them for years now. It’s just all this wedding planning and preparation for Ephraim and Talia. Miranda has wanted to be a part of every detail. And she knows the marriage was arranged between the families. She may have even asked what families we were considering marrying her off to.” She laid a hand on Shara’s as if trying to reassure her. “Not that we would force any of our children into a marriage that they didn’t agree to themselves. Talia and the twins have been friends since they were young. When Hugo brought up the idea of betrothal negotiations, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. You can understand how Hugo would want to keep things as official as possible.” _

 

_ “Aye.” Shara nodded. “Your Miranda has chosen Thias from the pot of eligible bachelors and settled her attention on getting him before you and Glover choose someone for her.” _

 

_ “As if we would, and she’s not even old enough to be thinking about such things anyway.” Adria rolled her beautiful eyes. “If you’ve got any ideas for getting her to just be content hanging out with Dalla, I’m all ears.”  _

 

_ “What if we arranged some time for them to spend just doing girl things?” _

 

_ “Well the frost will be upon us soon…” Adria thought. “And then Miranda’s birthday. Glove has had the shipwrights working on a new craft for her since she’ll be old enough to captain it. I think it’s a bit excessive but who am I to argue.”  _

 

_ “How about a voyage to Blackhold? Maybe around the time of Dalla’s birthday?” Shara suggested.  _

 

_ “I’m sure she’ll be happy to show it off.” Adria laughed. “Aye. We’ll plan on it. _ ”

 

… 

 

Miranda was coming! Shara had completely forgotten. That ought to perk Dalla up. She’d have to make sure that Dalla wasn’t off sailing when her friend arrived. And it might not be a bad idea to have Thias out of the picture for a few days. Just so the girls can spend some uninterrupted time together. 

 

She should have thought to send him on that voyage with Kason and the Flints. Oh well, it was too late for that now. Maybe it was time to have a little talk with her nephew about girls or at least remind Marlon to say something to him. 

 

Lana would have known just what to say. How Shara wished she still had her sister-in-law around for the tough questions. 

 

Lana would have had them all laughing with her story of Nolram asking her favorite color to break the ice. Then she would have led seamlessly into lesson of how important it was for a man to treat a girl right and for them to be friends, first and foremost. Lana had been an expert at teaching from her own experiences. 

 

It reminded Shara of something that Suzelle had written in her last letter…

 

Shara kept the letter inside one of the sailor’s valentine boxes that Jamos had given her. She rushed to it now and unfolded the well read pages of flimzy. 

 

_ Sometimes I wonder how I’ll ever be able to guide Talia into womanhood and I think it doesn’t have has much to do with what I tell her as it does how I live my life. I pray that she’ll learn from my mistakes so that she doesn’t have to go through that pain herself.  _

 

_ You and I have both been through more than what some people could bear, but it has to have been for a purpose. It has made us stronger and now we both can let this testimony be a beacon for the fleet… _

 

Aye. That was exactly it. Shara let the words from the past echo in her mind. Suzelle was right. These children didn’t come with an instruction holo but she did have her own experiences as a guide. And she prayed as Suzelle had that this next generation, her children and her niece and nephews would sail smoother seas than she had. She would be there for them no matter what. 

 

With that encouraging thought, Shara put away the old letter and brought herself back to the present. There were enough worries for today and there were dishes to wash. 

 

…

 

She had only been at the sink for a few minutes when the door to she and Jamos’ wing blew open. Her first thought was to chastise her husband about locking it. You can’t very well lock a sailing ship, but he should remember after all this time the importance of guarding their family’s privacy. 

 

In the second it took her to turn her head however, Shara realized that she heard the lock disengage. Only a handful of people knew their door code, “Sophia”: their family, Marlon, and his children… 

 

Then the door shut and Dalla Blackwell rounded the corner into the kitchen, her eyes twin moons. 

 

“Aunt Shara,” Dalla choked out, her breathing all gulps and puffs, like she was drowning or trying to blow out a trick life day candle. 

 

“Dalla?” Shara shook her hands out over the sink and turned around, the dishes forgotten. “Dalla, what’s wrong? Is your father all right?” 

Dalla nodded and Shara caught a glimpse of a Holodisk clutched in her hands. Jamos entered the kitchen and snatched it.

 

“Shara, will you try to calm her down?” he asked. “I’m going to see if we can get any answers from this.” 

 

Shara was a step ahead of him. She yanked out a chair at their table and plopped Dalla into it before seating herself in the other. 

 

“Breathe,” she ordered, wondering if she should put on tea or something. “Take a deep breath, and tell me what it is.”

 

“Th-the king… Sanjay Rash…” Shara managed to get a name out of her niece in the same moment Jamos started swearing a blue streak from the other room. 

 

She never expected that teaching from her own experiences to be quite so literal. Salt gods give her strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there I leave you at the beginning again. If you’ve been with us all this time you know how things go on from there with Dalla’s adventures and Shara is right there (as much as she can be) living those adventures along with her and doing whatever is in her power to help and guide.
> 
>  
> 
> A big huge thank you to everyone who has read and commented and sailed along this voyage with LS and I! She has a few more lines to tie off and then if you haven’t already check out my story “Some Say I’ve Got Devil” which continues the adventures of the happenings in Iziz about 2 years after the events of the rebellion and siege.
> 
>  
> 
> While you’re doing that LS and I will be deep in the planning for the sequel we will be co-writing about the further adventures of the Northern clans!
> 
>  
> 
> Also a little plug. The song “Beacon for the Fleet” can be found on Spotify and itunes on the EP "Sacred" by Jason Lee McKinney Band.


	74. Epilogue: King In The North!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this … could it be … the last chapter? Though it seems like yesterday the first one went up, this leg of the story has reached its end. But fear not, DK and I are definitely not done with the northerners or some other threads we’ve left untied.
> 
>  
> 
> For the thrilling not-quite-conclusion to Polaris, and a peek of what’s to come, we pick up six months after the battle for Onderon, in the days leading up to salt and light. - LS

Winter’s never held the equatorial city of Iziz in its grasp too firmly, but there’s a nip in the air when Lux Bonteri walks down the Iziz dock with a satchel in hand. He shields his eyes against the sun to pick out his destination and flags down a sailor on the dock. 

 

“Are you crew for that ship over there?” he asks, nodding to the new-looking northern vessel flying the light blue banner. 

 

“The  _ Southern Whore?”  _ the sailor clarifies. “Aye, I am.” 

 

“I’d like to speak with your captain.” 

 

The sailor nods assent and gestures for Lux to follow him up the gangplank. “Anyone seen the captain?” he asks the crew in general. “This -- woah!” 

 

Lux pitches from the deck moving beneath his feet and the sailor barely catches him in time. 

 

“Thank you,” he says. “I haven’t been on ships much.” 

 

“Much?” A new voice guffaws. “You haven’t been on a ship _at all!”_

 

Lux straightens up just in time to send an unamused look to the young woman coming over from the bow. “Go ahead and make fun of me, won’t you Dalla?” 

 

“It's Captain to you,” she jokes and clobbers him in a hug. “Welcome home, Lux!”

 

Lux gives her a friendly squeeze and then releases the hug. “That would be  _ Senator,  _ Captain.”

 

Dalla  _ tsks.  _ “Six months on Coruscant and already your head’s inflated.”

 

“You started it!”

 

She laughs and tosses an arm around his shoulder. “Everyone, let me introduce Lux Bonteri, our passenger. Go easy on him.”

 

One of the sailors winks. “Aye, Captain.”

 

Drawing on Dalla’s arm for support Lux makes his way to his cabin to drop off his satchel. 

Slowly he's getting used to the deck beneath his feet.

 

“So, in all seriousness how’s Coruscant treating you?” She asks.

 

“Alright,” he nods. “Senator Amidala let me stay with her a while. She was my mother’s friend, and she’s showing me the ropes. I promised to take lots of holos for her.” 

 

“There will be plenty to take holos of. We should arrive at the Hold on the first night of the salt and light festival. I’d go to that hungry if I were you; Aunt Shara’s cooking up a storm.” 

 

“I’ll starve myself the day before,” he promises and then swallows hard. “You know, I don’t think that will be very hard.” 

 

“Lux, you’ve been on board for about thirty seconds. You can’t be seasick already.” 

 

Lux goes green. “Wanna bet?” 

 

“Watch the horizon.” Dalla hurries him to the rail so he can see it clearly and changes the subject. “I thought Saw would be here to see you off since we’re both in town.”

 

Lux shakes his head, eyes still firmly planted on the horizon, and then he points. “I think he took a page from Bremon Kira’s book.”

 

Dalla follows his point to a ruping perched on the city walls, its rider little more than a shadow. But there's no question, it's Saw Gerrera. 

 

She waves to him and he nods back, but before they can do anything else Lux heaves over the rail and Dalla ducks to steady him. 

 

When she looks up, Saw and the ruping are gone. 

 

…

 

“Is Lux still in his cabin?” She asks Thias three days later, as they close in on Blackhold. 

 

“Aye,” her brother and first mate answers. “It’s probably the only place he can puke in peace.” 

 

“Are they still at him about that?” Poor Lux still  hasn’t gotten his sea legs and his stomach isn't cutting him any slack. Dalla’s surprised he has anything left to vomit up. 

 

Her crew’s only too amused by the whole situation. After they left the harbor Lux was treated to their entire repertoire of songs for roasting landlubbers, as well as a gender-swapped version of “The Captain’s Lady,” which they’d reimagined as “The Captain’s Boytoy.” Dalla shut that one down before the second verse, but the landlubber roasts are still going strong and considering she joined in on more than a few of them when the landlubbers in question weren’t her friends, it would just be hypocritical to stop them. 

 

Instead she heads down to Lux’s cabin and knocks on the door. “Lux, it’s Dalla. Can I come in?” 

 

“It’s unlocked.”  

 

Dalla opens the door and takes the half step necessary to plant herself a respectable distance from Lux’s berth, where he’s sitting with a bucket on his lap and his eyes firmly planted on the horizon through the porthole. 

 

“Please tell me you’ve come to say we’ve docked.” 

 

“If it’s any consolation, it’ll only be a few more hours.” She leaves the door open and sits down on his berth beside him. “Everyone’s excited to see you again, especially Tandin. He and Maris are coming to the Hold for feast night so you can see him then. That and you get to have more of Aunt Shara’s fruit cake.” 

 

Lux clutches his bucket. “Please don’t mention food.”  

 

“That bad, huh?”

 

For an answer, Lux pukes into his bucket. Dalla pats his back until he finishes. 

 

“You might want to consider flying home,” she suggests. 

 

“I already booked my ticket.” He dumps the bucket out the porthole with a practiced hand and sits back on the berth. “I’m just looking forward to being on dry land again.”

 

“I bet you are,” she changes the subject. “Have you talked to Ahsoka, what with you two being on the same planet?”

 

“A little. I've sent her messages, but only as pleasant conversation. Not about anything...important.”

 

She gets it. “You’ll know when the time’s right. And considering my track record, I don't think you want to take relationship advice from me.”

 

“No, I don't,” Lux smirks. “But since I gave you the initial bad relationship advice, I think we should just agree not to give relationship advice to each other at all.”

 

She laughs and extends her hand to shake. “Agreed.” There’s a shout from the deck and Dalla ducks into the corridor to check it out. 

 

Thias’ head appears at the hatch. “Tell your boyfriend land ho!”

 

“I'll be up in a second.” Thias pops out before she can react to the last bit. “Wait! Thias, he's not my --!” 

 

The hatch slams shut and she sighs. “Salt gods, at least it's not another kitchen.”

 

...

 

The entire crew laughs when Lux races down the gangplank before anyone else and promptly wipes out on the dock. 

 

“Let the Senator be,” she yells after them. “Don't you all have any salt and light cheer?”

 

“Don't a lot of people get engaged on salt and light?” Somebody whistles. 

 

“Once I find out who said that, they’re swabbing the deck for a week.”

 

Lux sits up on the dock. “If we do get married, then do you really want to have said that to your Lord?”

 

The sailors drown out Dalla’s cry of “Don't even give them the ammunition!”

 

“We’ll prepare the honeymoon suite,” Thias elbows her.

 

“I'm going to return all your salt and light presents, Thias.”

 

Her brother ceases to be a concern when Dalla hears a commotion on the dock and all but runs down the gangplank to check on Lux, but her friend is well in hand. Tandin’s come up the dock and lifted him to his feet. “Don’t feel bad, young man,” he says. “I was the same way after my first sea voyage.” 

 

“General!” Lux beams. “I didn’t think I would see you until the feast.” 

 

“How could I not come to welcome you?” He smiles and then adds with mock seriousness: “And it’s not General, not anymore. I’m simply Grigori now.” 

 

“Half the Hold just calls him Tandin,” Dalla announces. “Either that or ‘Mr. Pubkeep.’”

 

“You’re the pubkeep now?” Lux asks and they begin walking down the dock. 

 

“Oh, salt gods no.” Tandin shakes his head, laughing. “I just help out around the place doing maintenance and repair work, getting peat for the fires --.” 

 

“Romancing the pubkeep and eating all her nyorks.” Dalla whispers to Lux. 

 

Tandin sighs. “I am not eating all of Maris’ nyorks.” 

 

_ He didn’t deny the first bit. Interesting _ . 

 

“In fact, she’s made a batch for the feast tonight,” he continues. “Lux, you’re in for a treat. You’ve never tasted such cooking.” 

 

“I can’t wait,” Lux says and then rubs a hand over his stomach. “That is, if my stomach calms down by then.” 

 

…

 

“I’d say your stomach’s doing just fine, Lux,” Marlon grins over dinner that night. “You southerners must have a taste for nyorks.” 

 

Lux glances to what remains of the nyork platter. “I can’t argue with that, Lord Blackwell. I haven’t had such food in a long time.” 

 

“Marlon,” the Lord of the North corrects him for the second time that night. “Or I’ll start calling you Senator Bonteri.” 

 

Shara changes the subject. “Really? I’d have thought with you being on Coruscant and all, you’d have tasted almost everything.” 

 

“I have,” Lux says. “But I never get to enjoy it. I’m always eating over negotiations and such. We don't have many peaceful family meals.”

 

“So this is a family meal?” Cade asks, waggling his eyebrows at Lux and Dalla. 

 

Lux covers beautifully. “For you. I'm just your guest.”

 

“Speakin’ of guests, thank you all for invitin’ us,” Maris says. “Nessa an’ I usually do somethin’ ourselves, but nothin’ like this.”

 

“You’re practically family, Maris,” Shara smiles at her old friend. “And Grigori  _ is  _ family. Of course we invited you all; it wouldn't be salt and light without you.”

 

Jamos grind wickedly. “Now if Grigori would just get to working on something else, then -- hey!” He reaches under the table. “Who just kicked me?”

 

“I have no idea,” Tandin replies. 

 

Little Nessa giggles. She’s halfway on her own chair and half on Tandin’s, so she must have felt the kick. “Papa, can I have more fruit cake?” she stage whispers. 

 

“You’ve already had plenty,” Tandin says while sitting up straighter at the title. Then he looks at the sweet little face and gives in. “One more,” he relents and cuts a slice of cake for the little girl. 

 

Maris nods at him. “She’s got him wrapped aroun’ her little finger.”

 

“Will we be celebrating a wedding this week?” Lux teases. 

 

Maris shakes her head. “Can't get married unless the bride an’ groom are both baptized in the light of the salt gods.”

 

“I'm getting baptized this week along with Talia and Ephraim Harkon’s twin daughters,” Tandin reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze. 

 

“She’s had them already?” Lux asks. 

 

“She already had her first trimester done by the time she told Ephraim and he told half the galaxy,” Dalla explains. “She found out right after Miranda died and wanted to give him some time to process. The four of them are coming over to baptize them here at our salt formation.” 

 

“Exciting,” he spears another bite of fruit cake but before putting it in his mouth, adds: “I’m especially looking forward to yours, Tandin. You can follow it up with a proposal.” 

 

Tandin doesn’t even blink. “If you follow me into the pool, so can you.” 

 

“Like I told Dalla before, it wouldn’t take,” he shrugs. “I’ve been betrothed since Carlaac.” 

 

...

 

“Salt gods, they’re adorable! They look just like you, Talia. Well, with Ephraim’s eyes but the rest of them looks like you.” 

 

Dalla knows she’s babbling, but she couldn’t care less. She makes a funny face at the newborn in her arms, who doesn’t react much.

 

“Aye, they got his eyes and his hair,” Talia rocks back and forth with her other daughter. “My papa was disappointed for a bit before he absolutely fell in love.” 

 

“Which one am I holding again?” 

 

“Fiona,” Talia reminds her. “I have Maia here but I’d love to hand her off to that friend of yours, if I can find him. Where’d our men run off to?” 

 

She gets her answer from an “Oof!” down the dock and then the sound of a man’s laughter. The women spin around to see Lux trying to keep a straight face while holding his belly and gasping for air. 

 

Talia speaks up before Dalla can. “Ephraim Harkon, did you punch the Senator in the gut?” 

 

Lux manages a dismissive wave. “Just a friendly greeting. I was offering my congratulations.” 

 

Ephraim claps him on the back. “We’d better get over there. There are babies to be held.”

 

“Only one,” Dalla draws Fiona away. “You’re not taking her from me.” 

 

“We should have picked a different godmother if this one’s going to be so possessive.” Ephraim takes Maia from her mother’s arms and deposits her in Lux’s. 

 

Dalla’s mouth falls agape. “Godmother?” 

 

Talia nods. “We thought about it, and considering how you’ve taken to them I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have.” 

 

“Really?” She cuddles Fiona and the little girl stirs. “Of course I will. Thank you!” 

 

“They need a godfather too,” Ephraim points out. “And it seems Lux here is rather good with kids…” 

 

“Who, me?” Lux looks up from Maia. “But I’m not a northerner.” 

 

The parents shrug. “Doesn’t matter.” 

 

“You’d make a great godfather,” Dalla baits. “Just look at them.” 

 

Lux looks back down at little Maia and sighs. “I can’t say no to that face.” 

 

Talia shakes her head. “Ephraim, what have we done? They’re going to spoil them rotten.” 

 

“Too late,” Ephraim winks. “We don’t have time to pick new godparents. Dalla, Bonteri, you’d better not spoil my girls too bad.” 

 

“We won’t,” Lux promises and then in a loud whisper to Maia: “You want a cognine? I’ll get you one for every day of the week.” 

 

…

 

“You have brought me to this place and granted me a new life.” 

 

Tandin stands at the edge of the hot springs, his hands at his sides and his eyes cast on the sacred salt formation.

“Therefore, I promise to live that life in the light of the salt gods with the guidance of those present." He bows his head in reverence and closes his eyes. 

 

“In the light of the salt gods,” everyone present replies. Maris is a bit behind the others, having to pause and wipe a tear from her eye, but the pubkeep’s voice is louder than any of theirs. 

 

Tandin doesn’t move, waiting for Marlon and Jamos to pour the waters over his head. And sure enough the brothers are approaching -- but, Dalla realizes, with boyish grins and no bowl in sight. 

 

When Tandin opens his eyes to check their progress, Marlon and Jamos shove him into the pool and he belly-flops in with an awkward splash. 

 

“Papa swim!” Nessa cheers. 

 

Tandin resurfaces and wipes the water from his eyes. “I thought we were friends!” 

 

“We only do it to the ones we really like,” Marlon smirks. 

 

“And Maris!” He gestures to the laughing woman. “I thought you were on my side.” 

 

Maris stifles laughter long enough to say “If you could see your own face, Grigori! Nessa, don't he look funny?”

 

Tandin crosses his arms. “If the two of you would help me out, that would be wonderful.”

 

Talia taps Lux’s shoulder. “Lux, may I have my daughter back? There are a few words I need to say.”

 

“Of course.” He hands Maia back to her mother. “She's your daughter, after --  _ ack!” _

 

In the blink of an eye Ephraim ambushes him and unceremoniously shoves Lux into the pool.

 

“In the light of the salt gods, Bonteri. Now you too can marry a northern woman.” He winks at Dalla.

 

She turns red. “Ephraim Harkon!”

 

Tandin helps Lux to his feet and the senator wrings out his hair. 

 

“Stay in the pool for the twins’ baptism,” he instructs. Maris and Nessa approach the pool’s edge and he takes their hands to step out, beaming behind his bushy mustache.

 

Lux obeys and glares at Dalla and the Harkons while they descend into the pool. 

 

“I can’t believe you all,” he grumbles and holds out his arms to take Maia once again. 

 

“They would have thrown me in if I wasn’t baptized as a baby,” Dalla juggles Fiona into one arm and pats him on the back. “Welcome to the north, Lux.” 

 

“I suppose it needed to happen if I’m going to be a godfather.” He taps Maia’s nose. “You’d better be worth it, little one.” 

 

Talia cuts them off. “Let’s get on with this before they wake up?” 

 

“Aye, of course.” Dalla falls into line with Lux, forming a circle of the babies’ parents and godparents. 

 

Ephraim takes the wooden bowl from Marlon and fills it while Talia places her hands on her daughters’ heads and says “For these children I asked and they were given. Therefore I shall raise them in the light of the salt gods with the help of those present.” 

 

“In the light of the salt gods,” Ephraim repeats and pours the water over first Maia’s, then Fiona’s heads. 

 

“In the light of the salt gods,” Dalla repeats and nudges Lux. 

 

He doesn’t need the hint. “In the light of the salt gods.” 

 

And then there’s a great commotion and everyone out of the pool applauds, welcoming the north’s four newest members. 

 

…

 

“So it's back to Coruscant for you? You’re welcome to stay longer and recover from ringing in the new year with us.” The shuttle’s already idling on the dock but Dalla knows a few minutes won’t kill it. She still has time to say goodbye to Lux. “Or I could sail you back down to the capital.” 

 

He shakes his head. “Your sea’s freezing up; you’d get stranded. Are you trying to draw out my visit?” 

 

He’s joking, but Dalla’s response is anything but. “I might. I don’t have many friends to talk with up here. It’s nice having someone around.”

 

“It’s nice to talk with someone who doesn’t want anything in return,” he agrees. “There isn’t much of that on Coruscant.” 

 

“I don’t doubt it.” She nods. “Iziz must be a playground compared to the Senate.” 

 

“It’s a different game. The elements look much the same, but once you’re in you realize how different it is. It’s more … refined, but that refined edge will kill you all the same.” 

 

Dalla cracks a rueful smile. “What is it they say about us out in the galaxy, that we’re all unrefined animals at heart?” 

 

“We must be. I prefer our game. At least we come straight out with our attacks instead of hiding behind fancy words and diplomatic immunity.” He shakes his head, a specific someone who does just that must have come to his mind. “I wish, when my term is over, that I would be done playing that game.” 

 

Dalla checks to make sure no one’s around and then drops her voice to a whisper. “You’re going to be the king. You know that means you’ll have to play both --.” 

 

He nods exhaustedly. “I know.” 

 

“--But that doesn’t mean you have to play alone.” She raises an eyebrow. “You know you still have friends here, right? I owe you a few after everything that happened this summer.” 

 

The corner of Lux’s mouth curls up. “Is that a declaration?” 

 

“Was it a declaration when you brought me to the safehouse?” 

 

“No, it wasn’t,” He admits. “But even without a declaration, I’m not worried about the north and I doubt I ever will. I know it’s in capable hands.”

 

From another lord the compliment would raise alarms, but Lux isn’t just another lord. He’s a friend, and she knows that he would never betray her. He’s trusted her with deadly secrets and she’s given them back. If they were enemies, it would be assurance based on mutual annihilation. But as friends and bannermen, it’s rock-solid trust. 

 

“It’s easier to do that when one doesn’t have to worry about her king,” she replies. “And I don’t. Not in the slightest.” 

 

Never before has a king of Onderon come to the north and considered them his subjects rather than a meat locker for troops and brides. Never before has a king feasted in the Great Hall of Blackhold, or stepped into the sacred pool at the salt formation, or become godfather to northern children. 

 

Dalla crosses her arms. “I’m not about to kneel to you though, your grace. We’re in the north.” 

 

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to, my lady, but I will take a hug.”

 

“Gladly.” She hugs him tight. “We’re not going anywhere, Lux. If you need anything, or you just want to talk, we’ll be here.”

 

“And you should remember that there’s comlink reception on Coruscant,” he replies. “I may be busy, but I always have time for a friend.” 

 

She pulls back. “Did we just give each other the same advice?” 

 

He groans. “Yes, I think we just did. Thank the force it wasn’t about dating.” 

 

“Speaking of dating, you need to get cooking on that.” She shoos him toward his ship. “I want updates.” 

 

Lux waves to her while he goes up the boarding ramp. “Keep your fingers crossed for me!” 

 

The boarding ramp shuts behind him, but Dalla doesn’t stop waving until the shuttle’s taken off and disappeared into the sky. 

 

_ Be safe, Lux,  _ she beseeches.  _ Onderon needs you to be safe. We can’t plunge into another civil war after we just weaseled out of the last one.  _

 

Even if there was another heir, the north doesn’t want them. Yes, they bent the knee to Dendup, but kind as the old man is he doesn’t really know that the north was all about. 

 

But Lux, he’s something else. He’s fought alongside them, he’s protected them, and their families have been friends since he was old enough to know what that meant. 

 

Dalla’s been face to face with more kings than most see crowned in a lifetime. Sanjay Rash spun her through disgust and panic and in the end sympathy, leaving her more confused than anything. Ramsis Dendup did his best to heal his predecessor’s wounds, but still. His best isn’t quite enough to understand the north and its ways. 

 

There’s only one king Dalla would consider bending her knee to, and that’s Lux Bonteri. 

 

The king who, for the first time in a thousand years, represents all of Onderon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we reach the end of Polaris. Before I shed a few tears or launch into a speech about what’s to come, I want to extend the world’s biggest thank-you to DuchessKenobi. Some of the best parts of this story would not have existed without her input, research, and ideas. She offered encouragement when I needed it, she kicked my behind when it needed to be kicked, and it has been an absolute honor and a privilege to work with her and be her friend.
> 
>  
> 
> But like I said before, this is not over! DK and I are working on the as-of-yet-untitled sequel which returns to the northern seas. Prepare yourselves for more adventures with the Blackwells and Bralykburns, weddings, schemes, and some resolutions to conflicts we’ve had brewing since Gen 1 or longer. 
> 
>  
> 
> So farewell and adieu to you for now, fair readers. Thank you for sticking with us, and keep an eye out for Some Say I Got Devil and the sequel! — LS


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